


Fati Mortem

by thegooddeatheater



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Blood Rituals, Dark Magic, Dark Ron Weasley, Death, F/F, F/M, Graphic Self Harm, M/M, Might be some underage scenes, Multi, Multiple Pov, Powerful Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley-centric, Ron has no idea what's going on with him, Ron is messed up, Slytherin Ron Weasley, Smart Ron Weasley, Torture, at times - Freeform, but he can still be a cutie pie, but he's still making it work, but i aint sure, like - messed up messed up, occasional unreliable narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 158,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegooddeatheater/pseuds/thegooddeatheater
Summary: Inspired by Chuchi Otaku's Pendragon: The house of Pendragon.What happens when the Order, Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione, in a moment of bad decision making, decide that Ron.....isn't good enough?Follow the story of a boy whose greatest fear has just come true, and as he changes, morphs, becomes the Order's biggest mistake. Ever.A story filled with dark magic, pain, angst, action, drama, and a tad of romance as well.(My first ever fanfic. Not great, but still, hope you like it!)
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass and Ronald Weasley, Blaise Zabini/Tracey Davis, Cho Chang/Ron Weasley, Daphne Greengrass/Theodore Nott, Maybe Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley?, Maybe poly trio - Ron/Cho/Hermione? I have no bloody idea., Past Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, more to come....just wait and read., past Minerva McGonagall/Tom Riddle
Comments: 97
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is not my property, and I don't intend to make any money through this work.

Chapter 1 : Meeting

12 Grimmauld place

Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody were seated in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place, Order of the Phoenix headquarters. The werewolf looked like he had aged 15 years in a day, while the auror’s magical eye kept spinning around frantically. Voldemort was back, and the ministry did not believe Harry, who had been there to witness the ritual, which was why the Order had been reassembled.

Slowly, the members of the new order filed in. Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shaklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black, Emmeline Vance, Dedalus Diggle, Sturgis Podmore, Mundungus Fletcher, Elphias Doge, and Aberforth Dumbledore. The only people missing were Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Minerva McGonaggal. As Remus looked at the members of the order, he could almost see James and Lily seated among them, smiling and laughing.

 _I can’t lose Harry to Voldemort as well_ , he thought.

He turned his eyes to the Weasleys, who had similar expressions of worry for Harry and their family. And felt an uneasy feeling in his gut. What he and Moody were about to announce would no doubt cause Molly Weasley to chew his head off. He just hoped that Harry would agree with his decision.

 _No_ , he assured himself more than anyone else. _He will agree with you, for it is the only way. We can’t afford to lose to Voldemort._

Once everyone was seated and looking at him expectantly, he stood up, ready to start his presentation.

“Welcome, everybody. You all know why we are here today.”, he started with open arms. “He – who – must – not – be – named is back.” There were several sharp intakes of breath from the assembled group, and Remus continued.

“We all know that Harry is our strongest weapon, and will have to be the one to kill the dark lord, however, Harry is nowhere near his full potential right now, and I feel I know the reason behind it.” By now, everyone was listening to him, hanging on to his every word as if their lives depended on it, which in a way was true. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“The first thing we need to change is his friends, and the people he regularly associates with. I taught at Hogwarts for an entire year, and I was quite surprised that he wasn’t close to Neville, and was instead best friends with Ron.”

By now, Sirius’s brow was furrowed, and it was clear that he was getting suspicious.

“I’m afraid what I’m about to say next will no doubt upset Molly, Arthur, Bill, and Charlie, but…. I believe Ron is a bad influence on Harry. Now, listen me out before you pounce on me.”

“During the time I taught at Hogwarts, I saw that Ron is a very lazy person, and he’s also holding Harry back along with him. His essays were shabby, and his marks were average at best, and much worse than Hermione, who I believe is a much better friend to Harry. Along with that, I saw that the two boys took the same electives: Divination and Care of Magical creatures, which I think was a mistake. Harry should have taken arithmancy and Ancient Runes as electives, as they are much more useful subjects in a war.”

“And academics are not the only problem. Ron has some serious character problems as well. At the start of the year, he left Harry out of envy when he got selected in the Triwizard tournament. He left his best friend when he needed him the most.”

“While on the other hand, Hermione stayed by him the entire time, something which I’m sure Neville would have done as well. In fact, I’m sure Neville would be a better friend to Harry. He’s loyal, friendly, and must have some talent as he’s the son of Frank and Alice after all. He just has a few confidence issues, which I’m sure will be solved if he becomes friends with Harry and Hermione. Anyone wants to say anything?”

Surprisingly, the Weasleys were taking this really well. The only people who didn’t seem to like the idea were Sirius and Tonks.

“Listen here, Remus”, Sirius started. “I really love you like my own brother, but you’re just spouting nonsense right now. Ron is a really good kid, and I’m sure he’ll lay down his life for Harry, Hermione, and his family. This is the boy who sacrificed himself on a giant chessboard at age 11, walked into a nest of spiders for his friend at age 12, and stood up to a supposed mass murderer with a broken leg at age 13 and told him that if he wanted to get to get to Harry, he’d have to kill him first! Ron is a true Gryffindor at heart, and I know he’d do anything for those he loves.”

Sirius was fuming now. He had met Ron, and he was a good child. He reminded Sirius of himself when he was younger. Yes, Ron made some mistakes, but even he and James had had their fights. But in the end, they always made up, and the two of them would have given their lives for the other in a heartbeat. Before he could say anything though, Bill cleared his throat and spoke up.

“I’m sorry, mum, dad, but Remus does have a point here. I have seen Ron’s grades, and I must say that I am very disappointed in him.”

“I must agree with Bill on this one.”, Charlie said from beside his brother.

“I’ll make some alternate arrangements for Ron when our family moves here during the summer.”, Molly said. “Arthur? What about you?”, Remus asked.

Arthur had a conflicted look on his face, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. “I – I’m not sure about this. Like, I know my son, and he will stand by Harry through hell and high water, but Remus does have a point.”

Sirius couldn’t believe his eyes. Here, the entire Weasley family, was abandoning their own son? Sirius had thought that the Weasleys and prewitts were a loyal and supportive lot, but it appears that he was mistaken.

“Alright then, so let’s have a vote?”, Remus asked to the group. “All in favour of Harry severing ties with Ron, and possibly Neville becoming his new best friend?”

All wands went up in the air except for Arthur, Sirius, and Tonks. “All opposed?” this time, only Sirius’s and Tonks’s wand went up.

“I abstain from voting.”, Arthur said softly, as if he still wasn’t sure about it.

“Well, then we have a majority of people voting for the notion. Thank you for your cooperation, and the meeting is dismissed.”, Remus said quickly. He had sent a glance at Sirius, and his friend looked furious. And an angry Sirius was something you never wanted on your hands.

Remus was the first to exit the room, and before Sirius could catch up to him, he had exited the building and apparated to a forest where he used to spend time to think as a child. He needed to think now.

He knew that these measures were drastic, but he wouldn’t let any harm come to James’s son. This was war, and desperate times called for desperate measures. He lay down on the grass, and closed his eyes. He really wished that Sirius would agree with him.

***********

In Grimmauld place, Sirius lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was thinking, about what had happened in the meeting. _How could Remus do this to Ron?_

He was, for lack of better word, very confused. He knew that Ron was a good child, but when he thought about it, Remus did have a point. But still, he couldn’t shake away the comparison of himself to Ron. Neither of them was exceptionally good at academics, but they were true Gryffindors. Also, Ron had a sort of …hidden intelligence which he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Like, come on, what sort of 11-year-old understands the importance of sacrifice in a battle!

But yet, he knew that if the choice came between harry and Remus, and Ron, he would choose Remus and Harry. He had known Remus for his entire life and Harry was his godson, but he had not really known Ron at all. He knew he was being a prat for doing so, but he couldn’t help himself.

Just then, an idea came to his mind, and an evil smirk which would have made his father proud, crossed his lips. _Well, I have always dreamt of playing spy, you know?_

He wouldn’t really leave Remus, but he wouldn’t abandon Ron either. He would help the little red head, so you couldn’t really call him a brat after all. Ron wouldn’t be left alone.

**************

Ronald Weasley POV

Hospital wing, Hogwarts

“Gods, when is Pomfrey gonna let Harry out of there? That bloke needs to get out of that prison.”, Ron complained to Hermione as were walking to the hospital wing to visit their friend for the umpteenth time.

“Madam Pomfrey is just holding him back until he gets a clean health bill.”, she explained, as if quoting a textbook. Ron looked at the bushy haired girl next to him and a smile crossed his features. He had no doubt now, he fancied her. He had spent the last two years wondering what that weird feeling he got around her was, and he, the eternal idiot he was, had finally figured it out.

He abruptly giggled at the memory of how he had realized it. It was the day after the yule ball, and he was lying in his dorm bed, staring at the ceiling, when the realization had hit him like a herd of hippogriffs. Why he became extra pratty around her, why he became flustered around her, why he stared at her all the time, her beautiful chocolate eyes and curls, aarghh! Everything about Hermione was perfect!

She looked at her face once more, and within a second, his insecurities reared their ugly heads inside his mind. _Weasley, why do you think she would ever fancy you in return? She is the brightest witch of her generation, and who are you? A lanky, red haired, hot headed mess. She has bloody Viktor Krum pining for her, so what chance do you stand? And that’s totally discounting the Harry Potter! Have you seen how much she cares for him? Everything she does is Harry this and Harry that! Hell, I don’t even understand why Harry would want to be friends with you! He has everything he could ever want in the world, and in front of him, you’re nothing! Nothing at all!_

“Hey, Ron? Ron!”, Hermione called while waving her hand in front of his face, causing him to jump as he was abruptly broken from his musings.

“Huh? Oh nothing, I was just thinking about Harry, and, you know…. everything?”, he lied. Hermione bit her lower lip like she always did when she was worried.

“Ron, do you think Harry is more hurt than he’s letting on?”, she asked worriedly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he just saw a person die in front of him, and Voldemort getting resurrected. So, he might have PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder.”, she explained.

“So, what do you plan to do now?”, he questioned. He suspected that she would go and try to talk to Harry, but Ron had spent four years with the boy and he knew that Harry was just not the type of person to talk about stuff. He preferred to not burden anyone with his problems, and would go and be all noble.

“We should talk to him about what happened!”, she exclaimed, and Ron sighed. _Here we go, again._ “Hermione,” he started in a placating tone. “Harry is just not the type of person to talk about things. He will prefer to not burden anyone with his problems, and if you go to him, he’s just gonna explode in your face.”

“But that won’t help him at all! We need to face our problems, and you’re just brushing them under the carpet!”, she said heatedly, and Ron could feel an argument starting up.

“No, I’m not, I’m just the one thinking rationally for once!”

“But how is avoiding your problems rational?”

By then, they had reached the infirmary, and Ron sighed. He did not want another fight right now. “Listen, Hermione, Harry has gone through hell, and the two of us fighting will do him no good right now, so can we please have this argument later?”

Hermione still looked skeptical. “For Harry’s sake?”, he asked, and at last, Hermione agreed. _Look at that, she would agree to jump of a cliff as well for Harry Potter’s sake!_ The bitter part of his mind taunted, and Ron ignored it. His insecurities were on a rampage today.

The two entered the Hospital wing, and saw Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody standing in front of Harry’s bed. _Huh, why are these guys here?_ Just then, the werewolf spotted him, and nudged the auror, who looked at him critically, before walking over to them.

“Hey you, you’re the Granger girl, aren’t you?”, he barked out gruffly. “Er – yes, professor?”, she said, a bit intimidated by the man.

He cocked a thumb towards Harry’s bed. “Go there, I have things to discuss with yeh and Potter.”

Ron waited for a few seconds until it became clear that Moody wasn’t going to say anything to him. “What about me?”, he asked.

“Eh, you can go on yer way. I just asked for the girl. Or do I have to spell it out for you?”, he said. Ron could feel his ears heating up in embarrassment and anger. “Harry’s my friend too, and if you have anything to discuss about him, then I’m not leaving him!”, he said hotly.

“Ron…”, Remus sighed out tiredly, before coming to him and clamping down a hand on his shoulder.

“Ron, let’s go outside for a moment. I have to talk to you for a bit.”, he said calmly. Once outside, Ron immediately turned to his ex-professor. “What the hell is going on here? And why aren’t you guys telling me what’s going on?”, he asked hotly. He had a feeling that something was going to happen, which he wouldn’t like, and he had learnt over the years to trust his gut.

“Ron, I—” Remus took a breath. “I know I don’t know you as well as I would like, but, but the few times I saw you, what I do know is that you’re a great kid. Sure, you made mistakes, but you’re a good friend. Harry’s lucky to have had you on his side for this long. And I mean it, I really do, no matter what anyone else says.”

“Er – thanks, professor?”, he asked, not getting where this was going at all.

“There’s no need to call me professor, Ron.”, the sandy haired man said with a strange expression. “It’s not, that is to say, we shouldn’t say anything about it just yet. But in light of what you’ve just heard, and what you’re bound to hear in the future, I wanted you to hear what we really think.”

“...Is this about,” Ron swallowed. “What happened between Harry and me, at the start of the tournament?” Merlin, he’ll probably never get over how stupid he had been, to let his pettiness nearly destroy his friendship with Harry. Hermione had been frustrated on how Ron had, in her words, ‘let his unfounded jealousy get the better of him’; but it hadn’t been that simple. That time when Harry’s name burst out of the goblet, something in Ron had snapped. 

Suddenly, the weight of all the suppressed bitterness he had over being taken for granted, of being nothing more than a shadow, from absolute strangers to even his own family, came tumbling onto his shoulders all at once. And the thought that his best friend—the very one who he would have gone hell and back with —had done the same thing to him. Hadn’t trusted Ron enough to tell him of his plan to enter the tournament after Ron had always shared everything he had ever had with Harry…

Ron shook his head. “I know it was stupid of me now to think that Harry would ever risk his neck like that. I know I was a right prat just when he needed me most and I’m sorry! I... I know I have a lot to make up for because of that but _—_ ”

Remus seemed to be struggling to say something. It was like he knew he had to say something a death sentence, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Ron felt cold sweat pop up on his skin.

“Remus, why are you telling me this?”, but before anything else could happen, Moody appeared next to them out of nowhere.

“Hey, Weasley! Potter wants a word with you.”, he barked before turning and going back to the infirmary. Without a word, Ron left the werewolf, who didn’t try to stop him at all, and walked into the infirmary.

 _Please, please don’t have any news that something bad happened to Harry or Hermione_ , he frantically thought in his mind. His head was racing with a million possible scenarios. Harry was dying, Voldemort had taken someone hostage and had asked Harry to give himself up.

 _Oh god! What if he has Ginny again!_ His heart nearly stopped beating at the thought of his little sister being held hostage, and he knew that Harry, the self - sacrificing git, would no doubt give himself up, after which Voldemort would kill both of them.

He took a deep breath before parting the curtains surrounding Harry’s bed, and nearly fell down at the sight of Hermione’s tear-streaked face, and her more than usually frazzled hair. Just then, he noticed Harry, and he knew that something was wrong. Harry’s eyes looked…. dead. As if he had resigned, but beneath those eyes was also quite some anger. _No, something is most definitely wrong._

“Uh, hello?”, he greeted awkwardly. “Are you guys alright?”, he asked. “Ron”, Harry said, his voice cracking slightly at his name. “We need to talk.”

“Well, duh! No one’s telling me anything, and then Remus goes and gives me a lecture on friendship! Now, will you two get a move on and tell me what on earth’s going on?”, he ranted, letting his nervousness take control. “And also”, he said pointing to the girl. “What’s wrong with you, Hermione? Why are you crying?”

Harry was about to answer when Hermione beat him to it. “Oh, Ron, it’s so horrible! I didn’t even think—! I can’t believe they’d—! It’s not fair that they’d ask us to do this!”

“Hermione,” Harry gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We already talked about—”

Hermione swatted his hand away with a harsh glare. “No, you were already coming to your decision! You didn’t even think of letting me have a say on this! You didn’t even want to listen to me!”

Harry scowled right back. “Don’t pin this on me alone, Hermione! You agreed with all the points!”

“I said I could see where they’re coming from, not that I agree with them! Just— _my God_ , _Harry!_ I can’t believe you’d do this! After everything we’ve been through!”

Ron’s jaw slackened in shock. While it wasn’t unprecedented, a fight between Harry and Hermione was as rare as Snape giving points to Gryffindor. Ron belatedly wondered if Harry felt this awkward and overwhelmed whenever he and Hermione had their rows.

“Still didn’t stop you from making your choice, did it?” Harry said so coldly that it unnerved Ron even more. Never had Ron heard his best friend speak that way before. Though instead of backing down like she would whenever Harry became obviously angry, Hermione glared right back but hadn’t said another word.

That was when Ron had enough. “That’s it! Will you two just tell me what in Merlin’s name is it with everyone today?!”

“We all know a war is coming soon.” Harry explained. “With Voldemort back _—_ stop flinching, Ron! It’s just a bloody name! _—_ the Death Eaters will definitely waste no time starting one. They already showed us what they could do back at the World Cup. It’s only a matter of time until they strike.”

“We both figured as much.” Ron gestured to himself and Hermione. “It makes a whole lot of sense, and it’s obvious Dumbledore’s making some moves of his own. He won’t be gathering old friends, so to speak, for just a big, happy reunion, will he?”

The way Hermione beamed with pride at him made Ron feel a little better, but Harry’s flat tone put a quick damper on it. “Professor Moody’s told me about a meeting with the rest of those old friends, talked about how they’re going to prepare for the fighting. One of the things they talked about was...the people I associate with.”

It was at that moment that everything Remus had been telling him made terrifying sense. “Is it about me?”

“Oh, Ron, they’re just being full of nonsense!” Hermione said almost hysterically, and the fact that she was saying this about adults, who she respected and looked up to as if they were the bloody Law, made Ron even more concerned. “They’re acting as if they’ve never been kids their whole lives! Not seeing the forest past the trees! Yes, you can be a lazy oaf and an insensitive prat at times, but you’re plenty smart and talented! I...I can understand why Moody and whoever else we don’t know would think you’re just your faults! But your family _—_ ”

“Hermione!” Harry said sharply, but it was too late. Ron’s eyes widened as the truth knocked the wind out of him. “My family?”

The bushy haired girl saw the way Ron paled visibly at the slip and hastily tried to backpedal. “M--maybe it’s not what it sounds like! It’s just hearsay, after all! They _—_ it’s impossible! Of course the Weasleys don’t think that about you! You’re family! They should know you better than anyone else!”

But Ron’s mind had already run off on a tangent. For some reason, the thought that his family would think so lowly of him didn’t surprise him too much. It had been painfully obvious that his family had seen him as the least favourite son his entire life. Bill, Percy and Charlie had never even thought he was worth their time, Fred and George made it clear with their pranks and words how little they thought of him, and his parents had made it clear in all but words how little he mattered to them. When he closed his eyes, he could see his mother giving him the oldest school things and wand, when all his siblings had gotten new things. He remembered that time the twins had burnt a hole in his tongue, and all the punishment they had got was a light scolding. On the other hand, the time when they had pinned the blame for wrecking the kitchen on him, he had been grounded for a week.

He remembered all the times when Ginny would get everything on a whim, and he never got what he wanted. He remembered how his entire family used to gush over Harry, while he just watched from a corner, wishing that he was the person on the receiving end of those hugs. Suddenly, a memory came to mind, of the night of the attack during the world cup.

His mother and father had entered the tent, and the first person they hugged was Ginny. Then came Bill, Charlie, Percy wasn’t present, the twins, and then bypassing him, she gave Harry and Hermione the biggest hugs. He didn’t even receive a word of her joy in his being safe. It was like…he meant nothing to her. That night, he went to sleep early, trying to prevent tears from flowing.

“...They said that because of the war, I’ll have to be more...selective of who I associate with.” Harry continued. “Means that I can only be around those who I trust with my life, and those who I know can fight the real fight.”

“And that’s not me?” Ron whispered thickly. “I’m not one of them?”

Harry laughed bitterly. “At first I _thought_ you were. But then the whole mess with the Triwizard Tournament happened, and you...what you did. Kind of puts things in perspective, really. Said I should be friends with Neville, and maybe the twins, and frankly, they are right. Neville strikes me as a much more loyal person.”

The red haired boy felt his knees start to shake. “And my family agrees with you? All of them?”

Hermione hesitated before speaking when it looked like Harry didn’t want to answer the question. “Like what I said, it’s all just hearsay for us. It was Moody who said, well, they had a meeting about it. All the adults we know are there, even Bill and Charlie. But we don’t know for sure if that’s what they _really_ think! Or if Moody and Remus are just generalizing or _—_ ”

_My family. My own family. They...they actually..._

“So that’s it then.” Ron’s voice sounded so hollow in his own ears. “You’re cutting me off, yeah? Like a rotting branch off a tree?”

Tears sprang on Hermione’s eyes again. “Oh Ron, it’s not like that.”

“It’s fine, Hermione. Makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it? I mean, who’d want this?” He raised both his arms up to either side. “This gangling, hot-headed mess who can’t even be counted on to stand with his mates when they need him most? I’d want to get rid of me too!”

“No, no, no, Ron, I—!” Hermione turned to her other best friend, clutching his arm in obvious desperation. “Harry, please, _please_ , don’t do this! I don’t care if Moody, the Weasleys, Remus or whoever else was in that bloody meeting think this is the right thing to do. But it’s Ron, Harry! Our friend! _Our best friend!_ ”

Ron’s blue eyes met Harry’s dead-looking green ones head on, and knew that the Boy-Who-Lived had made his choice.

“So I guess this is it then.” The Weasley marveled at how he was able to keep his voice together so well (albeit slightly off pitch). “I... It had been amazing while it lasted. Some of the best four years of my life. And…” He laughed. “Merlin, this sounds so sappy! Who died and turned me into a sodding girl?”

It showed just how much the whole situation upset Hermione when Ron didn’t get a rise from her for the last comment.

“So yeah. Yeah. Good luck to both of you. You’re the best friends I’ve ever had, really, outside of my family. I know I haven’t been as good a friend as you’ve been to me. But I tried, right?” Another laugh. 

“Ron…”

“It’s OK, Hermione, I get why you choose him.” Ron shrugged. “He’s the Chosen One. The one who’ll beat You-Know-Who again and end this bloody war, hopefully before it’s ever really began. What else am I other than being his best friend? Or at least, his ex-best friend.”

Hermione and even Harry flinched violently at those words but Ron’s back was already turned on them. “Right, so take care and fight a good one. Be seeing you around.”

“Ron.”

The slightest sliver of emotion in Harry’s voice made Ron’s feet stop. So much feeling behind that word that it nearly broke Ron right there and then.

But the older boy kept his head high and his back turned. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“Ron—”

“Goodbye, Harry.”

And with those two words, two words with which a friendship stronger than any other was broken, the two last words between two people who would have given their lives for the other in the past, Ron ran from the infirmary.

He ran past Remus and Moody, ran past curious passer-byes, ran from his ‘friends’. Unbeknownst to him, his rampant, pained magic was whipping all around him, and had literally blasted apart the doors of the infirmary. Anyone with mage sight watching him would have jumped back at the sight of his magic. It was pure black with streaks of icy blue, built from nightmares come true, pain, anger, and a broken heart, and it would do anything to protect its wizard.

His worst fears had come true. It was like, the insecurities which had been festering in his mind for the past three years, the nightmares he had, had all come true, which they had. He had had nightmares of his friends rejecting him for not being good enough. He had had nightmares of his family replacing him with Harry, which had also happened. He had had nightmares of Hermione choosing Harry over him, which had just happened.

He just wanted to escape from it all, to get away from the nightmare which was his life right now. He wanted some time alone, to think. He could hear someone calling him, and that only made him go faster. Without any conscious thought, his feet carried him to the room he had found on the seventh -floor corridor while he was estranged from Harry(albeit he had only used it once, after which he’d forgotten about it). When he opened his eyes, he saw the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. Surprisingly, the door had appeared on the first round itself this time, and he entered without looking for anyone watching.

The moment he was inside, fell back against the wall, and slid down to the floor, finally letting the tears to start flowing. It started slow, with a sniff which shook his body, before it sped up. Before he knew it, he was lying on the ground, curled in on himself, crying his soul out.

_Because how could they? Just how fucking almighty could they?_

He had sacrificed himself on the chessboard, not knowing if he would die, just so Harry could go and get the philosopher’s stone. He went and faced his greatest fear in the forest, just so Hermione could have a chance to wake up. He risked the statute of secrecy and having his wand snapped, so Harry wouldn’t have to stay with the Dursleys. He stood up for Hermione in Snape’s class. He stood in front of a supposed mass murderer with a broken leg and offered his life up for the two of them, he threw up slugs because Malfoy had called Hermione a mudblood, and they threw him away like he was nothing!

He underwent continuous taunts about his family from the slytherins in school, and he always defended them. He underwent the twins’ pranks, without a word of complaint. He never moaned about his tattered clothes while Ginny got everything just if she cried, and yet, his family dismissed him like he was a bag of trash!

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, but after what felt like eons, he sat up, wiped his tears, and made a resolution.

_I’ll show them who’s nothing, I’ll show them how measly they’re compared to me! They’ll learn to quiver at my sight, and fear my name!_

_I’ll have REVENGE!_

Because, you see, Ronald Weasley was a very kind, cheerful, and caring person most of the time. However, deep inside him, there was a hidden darkness. A darkness like lord Voldemort’s. Or like death.

No, he was not a blood supremacist, and neither did he believe that people should be hurt just because of something they have no control over. This darkness, was something which would hurt those who dared to try and hurt its master, which could make the strongest wizards tremble.

This darkness was _vengeful_ , and for the first time, Ronald embraced it. He had always rejected it before, as he really did not want to hurt anyone, but now…now he wanted to hurt them just like they had hurt him.

Think back to Ronald’s sorting, where the hat had barely touched his hat before shouting ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ everyone assumed, that this was because he encompassed all the traits of a lion; impulsiveness, courage, daring, sacrifice, nerve, chivalry, along with a bit of arrogance, and he in fact did possess these qualities.

However, the real reason he had been put in Gryffindor was because the hat had seen this darkness, and it knew that it couldn’t be allowed to grow. The sorting hat had only seen something like this within Tom Riddle Jr., and had made a mistake by putting him in a place where the darkness would be nurtured, and would grow. The hat would not let the world burn once more, which was why it had put Ronald in Gryffindor along with Harry Potter, who he hoped would let Ronald’s better aspects flourish, but it had made a mistake.

The better parts of Ronald’s personality had grown, but along with it, the darkness had also grown, festering, waiting to be let out, and now, due to the errors of a man and a boy, this darkness had been unleashed upon the world.

Ron had been crying for over an hour, though he did not know this. Outside, within the castle, people were searching for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

 _I will become more powerful than any of them, and I will show the world who I am._ , he thought, his eyes flashing icy blue for a second, and the room of requirements bent to its user’s will.

From different corners of the room, it brought forth several things and deposited them at Ron’s feet. The pile of artefacts included three time turners, a few books on magic and offensive spells, potions to help him get up, and a clean cloth to clean him up. A basin also appeared near him, to help him wash his face.

Ron jumped back in surprise, before sitting down and inspecting the turners. One of them looked a bit damaged, but the other two were in perfect condition, but what he did not get was how these things had suddenly appeared, when it suddenly hit him. He had wished for things to make him great, and suddenly these things appeared at his feet. The time turners would allow him to learn much more in the same time, the book contained some very powerful spells, and the potions and towel would allow him to clean up before going outside, something he had subconsciously wished for.

 _Wait._ He once more closed his eyes to test if his theory was true. This time, he wished for a bit of money, and immediately, three sickles flew into his open hand. Ron’s face broke into a huge grin, as he realized the potential of the place he had just stumbled upon. He looked at his watch, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he realized how long he had been here. _2 hours!_

He quickly washed his face and wiped away the tears. “Hey, can I ask you to not let anyone else find this place?”, he yelled into the vast expanse of the room, and understandably got no response.

He ordered the room to hide the time turners in the room in such a way that only he could access them, before quickly exiting (after checking to see if anyone else was watching him), and made his way to the great hall for dinner. At the entrance, he saw Harry and Hermione seated facing each other on one end of the table, and a painful knife stabbed his heart. His heart ached seeing his two friends and how they had betrayed him, but the pain and sorrow was soon overtaken by anger.

 _To hell with those two!_ , he thought before leaving the great hall and instead going to the kitchens to eat. He didn’t notice his eyes flashing an icy, malicious blue, instead of their usual warm and inviting azure.

On the head table, Albus Dumbledore watched Harry Potter and Hermione Granger eating their food without any sign of joy or enjoyment from any of them. It was like they were missing a part of their soul, and that part was Ronald Weasley. He noticed Ronald appear at the entrance of the hall, and a pained expression crossed his features, before he turned and headed away.

_Well, fights do happen between children, especially at their age. I just hope they come back together soon._

************

Miles, worlds, universes. Or was it souls, lives, deaths, and lifespans away?

Fate screamed and thrashed against the bonds of molten, black iron binding her. As the chains tightened, ignoring her screams, and pleas, and oaths of vengeance, the ones who’d set them there smiled, a bittersweet smile.

Or one of a Hyena. A devious grin, only fit on a devil’s face. _Pity, fate never thought that someone would ruin its countless possibilities._

Because, Fate wasn’t something pre – existing, set down in stone. Fate was the words which the weak minded, imbecilic used to describe the countless possibilities of the universe which they couldn’t hope the understand.

In a sense, Fate didn’t exist, but was just the ‘physical’ manifestation of the beliefs of those who could form conscious thoughts. Fate worked on the basis of supporting the most likely outcomes in an event, and a chain of the most probable events happening was what people titled as ‘It was Fated’

Oh, how naïve they were. Because, why would they ignore the lesser, darker, more powerful possibilities?

Now, Lady Fate was trying to bite the chains with her ‘teeth’ in order to free herself, as her captors, torturers laughed at her torture. Black blood streamed down her limbs.

“How – how dare you twist what was written down in the books of Fate!”, she screamed, and all she got in return was a kick in the chin which nearly snapped her neck.

Her five captors ignored her screams of suffering, the clangs of the chains banging against each other, and instead turned to their next captive.

Things were going perfectly to plan – they would break Ronald Weasley.

No, they would kill Ronald Weasley.

A monster would take his place.

_For the greater good_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read so far, Thank you!  
> Anyways, I just wanted to clarify that this is NOT a Harry/Hermione/Weasleys/Order Bashing fic (Alright, the order might have some stupid moments)  
> Trust me, firstly, Harry, The Weasleys, Hermione, and the Order's decision has been influenced by the captors of fate in the last part of this chapter.  
> Secondly, despite all that Harry and Hermione have done, they will have their redeeming moments of heroics later on in the fic.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Important Developments

Ronald Weasley’s POV

The next morning, during classes, Ron sat as far away from his friends, scratch that, ex – friends as possible. Normally he would have paired up with Harry, but today he paired up with members of the other houses in all the classes. After every class, Hermione would look hesitantly towards him, or try to approach him, but he was the first to leave class all the time. He had no doubt that she would come to him to either apologize, or tell him that it wasn’t her fault, and frankly speaking, he didn’t have time for an argument, and just didn’t want to talk to her either.

If she came to tell him it was all his fault, then he might snap and hex her into oblivion, and he didn’t want her apologies. The ‘golden trio’ was done. There would never be any Harry, Ron, and Hermione, ever again. He had spent all his life under their shadows, and now he would go ahead and make a place for himself, but more importantly, he wanted them to feel how he had felt when they had dismissed him. Let them have a taste of their own potion.

But yet, there was a tiny part of him which kept telling him to stop, and to try and listen to her, maybe they could come back together? Maybe they could be friends once more?

But every time he saw Potter with Neville, the pain of their dismissal came back in full force, and the tiny voice ran away in fear. _Yeah, look at them! Laughing as if nothing’s changed! Let them pay for their mistakes! You will not go back groveling to them for their mistakes!_

And so, the moment classes were over, he went to the Come and Go room to test out the time turners. Upon entering, he saw that there was a table in front of him, along with the time turner which had been in the best condition, with a book detailing how to use one. Ron smiled as he picked up the book and sat on a chair which had opened out of nowhere.

15 minutes later, he had torn the page containing the most information and stored it in his pocket, and prepared to use the time turner.

“Here we go”, he whispered to himself, with a building sense of anticipation in his gut. He still remembered how Harry and Hermione had used a time turner to go back to the past and save Sirius.

He turned the time turner once, to go back one hour. As soon as the twist was made, a sense of nausea descended upon him, and the world began spinning around him. He was surrounded by a multitude of colors, all swirling around to form on big mess, and then, as quickly as it had started, it had stopped, and Ron fell onto the ground on his knees, trying to stop the feeling of nausea.

 _Damn, didn’t know that this would happen_. After a minute, he got up and took out the scrap of paper in which he had noted where he had been at this time.

“Right now I’m in the greenhouses, and 20 minutes later I’ll be in the kitchens, after which I’ll be coming back here. So that means, I’ll have to get out of here at 5:55, and come back at exactly…6:15.”, he read out from the parchment, before storing it in his pocket.

And with that, he asked the room for a training dummy, which it promptly provided, and got to work on his disarming spells and stunners.

He had to admit, he wasn’t a very good dueler, but he would be working hard to change that fact. At the end of the 40 minutes of practice time he had, he was on the ground, panting for air, and sweating profusely, but satisfied nonetheless.

The red head had still got to increase the speed of his spells, and maybe the power as well, but he knew that with enough work, anything was possible. He checked his watch, and jumped to his feet in shock.

“Bloody Hell!”, he exclaimed, while quickly drying himself with a charm, before heading outside after reverting the room to its original state. As soon as he exited the room, he ran as fast as he could away from the entrance, before the other Ron came in. He did _not_ want to meet himself from the past.

He soon reached an abandoned classroom, and sat down on one of the chairs, panting hard. _Merlin, that was a close call,_ he thought. Suddenly, he felt a laugh making its way up his throat for absolutely no reason, and he let loose.

This was the first time he had laughed a genuine, hearty laugh since Harry had entered that damn maze. Slowly, he regained his composure, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that maybe, life wasn’t so bad after all. Yes, he still did miss his friendship a lot, and every time he saw Harry and Hermione, it was like someone was tearing his heart apart, but at that moment, he just forgot about his woes. The world, and his problems be damned, but he had just done something completely on his own! There was no thanking his brothers, or Harry, or Hermione for this, but it was all his work!

Unbeknownst to the red head, on the other end of the castle, a teenage boy and girl sat in their respective dorm beds, regretting their decisions.

************

Harry Potter POV

Every night, he would rewind his last conversation with Ron, on that horrible night when they had broken their friendship. And often, he would wake up screaming at his past self to stop being stupid.

Yes, at the time it had happened, Harry had felt that Moody’s words made perfect sense, because Ron _had_ abandoned him when he needed him the most, and in battle, it could cost him his life. After the meeting, Ron had disappeared for 2 hours, and then turned up at the entrance of the great hall at dinner. He sent a glance at them, and a pained expression had passed his face, before it was replaced by a cold, unforgiving anger, and he turned and disappeared again. Ron didn’t know that Harry and Hermione had noticed him, and the anger which crossed his features nearly broke both of them.

But yet, despite his guilt, he still couldn’t bring himself to apologize to his best friend. Maybe it was because he was a coward, but there was a small part of his mind, the evil side, which kept telling him that Ron didn’t deserve his friendship. Harry didn’t know where this was coming from, but he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard he tried.

And so, he had made friends with Neville when Remus had made the two of them meet up in the hospital wing. Now, even though there were still the three of them; Harry, Hermione, and Neville, it just didn’t _feel_ right. Not to mention, Hermione pointedly refused to glance at the two of them, and Harry and Neville were an awkward pair, missing the easy jokes and laughter Ron presented.

(Hermione had also been taking their parting very bad, as it had been painfully obvious that she and Ron had fancied each other ever since second year. She had tried to confront him many times, but Ron had managed to escape her every time. That was another guilt on Harry’s conscience; he might have just separated Ron and Hermione, maybe forever.)

They didn’t laugh as much, they didn’t talk about hexing Malfoy and Snape, there was no one to comfort him during the nights when he had nightmares.

Normally, whenever he woke up in the middle of the night, screaming and thrashing, Ron would be up in an instant, holding him tight and whispering words of comfort. In those moments, Harry felt _safe_ , like he still had people who cared for him. That was one of the reasons why Ron’s abandonment hit him so hard. His nightmares increased tenfold, and there was no one to hold him.

Neville tried, he couldn’t blame him for that, but Neville didn’t just emanate that same sense of security, and he couldn’t blame Neville for it either. Harry knew that Ron was insecure about his family, especially after he had come among the Weasleys. He hadn’t missed Ron’s heartbroken look when his mother had hugged every single person except him after the attack during the quidditch world cup. Harry had tried to comfort him, but he had already fallen into a fitful sleep by then.

By then, he and Ron had been apart for 4 days, and Harry had expected that by then, he and Neville would have reached some sort of better bond, and the pang he felt in his heart every time he felt Ron would go away, but it didn’t. Not in the slightest.

He still felt guilty whenever he saw Ron, and Ron….he looked different. Like he had a secret that no one else knew, and he had some sort of plan, and that look unnerved the scarred boy. He had known Ron for being the frankest person he had ever known, and he was never one for keeping secrets, but there he was, with a smug smirk on his face half the time.

But whatever the case was, it looked like Ron had been doing better without them, while he and Hermione were struggling without the red head. Harry hated to admit it, but it appeared like he and Hermione needed Ronald Weasley more than Ronald Weasley needed them. 

****************

Ronald Weasley’s POV

At last, it was the night of the parting feast, and Ron was a tad bit anxious about sitting in the great hall, along with his peers after such a long time. But his mind was filled with other, much more exciting things and plans. Call him inconsiderate if you will, but he just couldn’t bring himself to worry about Voldemort’s return, though he did feel sad about Cedric’s death. He had known him a bit as they were neighbours, but it still didn’t hurt him anywhere near as much it had hurt Cho and Amos Digorry.

The last week had been _very_ unusual as compared to his normal time at Hogwarts (this excluded the events of the chamber of secrets, the philosopher’s stone, Sirius Black, and the Triwizard). For once, he was completely without any friends, and it did hurt him, but he had learnt to cope in different ways.

He had begun taking out his anger and pain on seeing Potter, Longbottom and Granger on the dummies, and had discovered that when feeling a strong emotion, his magic was much stronger than usual. Hell, he had managed to cleave a shield with a single stunner once. The moment he had discovered that, a book on people’s magic and wandlore appeared right next to him.

It contained information of how different people magic just worked differently. Granger was the type of person who could do everything pretty well, pretty quickly. But she could very rarely get results like that badass stunner he had produced.

And on the other end of the spectrum, were people like him, whose magic heavily depended on his emotions. He could very rarely get spells right on the first try, but when he was feeling a particularly strong emotion, or not paying attention at all, he would get some extremely strong results, or just downright freak accidents, like breaking gamp’s law of elementary transfiguration (he still didn’t know how he managed to remember that)

(Little did Ron know, that he was experiencing nowhere near the full pain and betrayal of his friends leaving him. Yes, every time he as much as saw a brunette or someone with messy black hair, he would be put in a bad mood, but it was nowhere near how angry the darkness within him was. His mind had instinctively created occlumency barriers to keep his temper and the darkness in check, but he had no idea of what was happening. All he felt was a sudden, extreme spike of emotions too painful and strong to describe when he saw Harry or Hermione or one of his siblings, before it quickly got subdued, and the pain wasn’t so great anymore.)

It had also mentioned how when a wizard or witch underwent serious changes in their personality, or had some pretty extreme experiences, they tended to need a new wand. In Ron’s mind, his personality _had_ changed quite a bit, and so he decided to get a new wand. He simply chanted _‘accio all magical money’_ , and voila! He had a huge pile of money at his feet!

After 15 minutes of sorting through the coins, he calculated that there was approximately 500 Galleons in that mound, leaving Ron slack jawed. This was easily the most money he, or any other Weasley had ever held at a time. It would have easily put the Weasley vault to shame, and Ron did _not_ want to share. _Serves them right for not treating me properly_ , he thought viciously. Normally, his first response to so much money in his possession (after drooling over it) would have been to use it in a spendthrift way, but he knew that even though it was quite a bit, it wouldn’t last forever if he used it that way. So, he decided that the next time he visited Diagon alley, he would open an account in Gringotts under his name, and store all this money.

 _But how do I carry all this?_ , he thought, not liking the thought of leaving this wealth alone, where anyone who stumbled upon this room could take it. Some might call it gluttony on money, but he had grown up with nothing of his own. He felt he was justified to _some_ treats after 14 years of nothing but hand me downs.

At that thought, a small black pouch zoomed over to him, landing at his feet. _Great, what on earth can I do with this?_ But as he lifted it up, he accidentally dropped it, and when it fell, a small pile of trinkets dribbled out of its mouth.

 _Huh, didn’t think it contained anything._ He once again lifted the pouch, and put a hand inside, checking for any other objects. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt his hand make contact with stuff which most _definitely_ could not exist in such a small pouch. His fingers were making contact with piles upon pile of toys, prank items, forgotten letters, notes, broken quills, and what not. He loosened the drawstring as much as he could, and tipped the pouch over.

Immediately, a waterfall of little items came crashing down, and Ron nearly fell down in shock. Once the things had stopped dribbling down, he finally peeped into the pouch, and found that the amount of space inside was _huge!_ He could easily store all his possessions in here!

With a wide grin, he held the unique pouch close to his chest. Life was beginning to look great after a long time.

He stored all of the money, along with a few useful tidbits he had gathered, in the pouch, and made his way to his dorm, where he stored it in his trunk. He used a blood magic (clearly dark) spell on his trunk so only he could open it (he had obviously found it in the magic room) and anyone else who even tried to do so would get painful blisters on their hands.

Normally, he would have been the first one to shout out that Dark magic was bad, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment. Not to mention, using blood magic, filled himself with a certain sort of ecstasy, freedom, and completeness which he had never felt before. It was like that feeling he got while riding a broom, the wind whipping against his face, and him screaming at the top of his lungs in excitement, except that it felt more….. _subtle_ , like the feeling was warming him from the inside out.

It made him feel powerful.

On another note, he had started using the time turner much more frequently. He was now going back several hours a day, every day. It left him feeling exhausted, and cranky, but he didn’t mind. The crankiness didn’t bother him, as he didn’t talk to anyone, other than Dean and Seamus rarely.

The extra work had been yielding results as well. He could now whip out a chained stunner and disarmer before you could blink, and was moving on to more complex chains and spells. There was one certain spell that he did want to learn though, called _sectumsempra._

He had no idea what it did, as he had found it on a small piece of parchment that someone had been doing complex arithmancy calculations on. It could have just been a household spell, but Ron just had a feeling that this spell was immensely powerful, and he was desperate to try it out.

On the topic of time turners, the wonderful device had also allowed him to hatch another plot.

Emancipation.

His ‘family’ clearly did not want him, and preferred the great Harry Potter over him, and in turn, he didn’t want anything to do with them either, including carrying the Weasley surname. It was quite a drastic step, but Ron felt that if he wanted to go ahead, he had to leave behind _everything._

The time turner had allowed him to visit the library and look up the books on law, of which there were surprisingly few in the place. The texts were as boring, if not more, the Binn’s history lessons, but Ron still managed to trudge through them.

The basic gist was, that the person applying for emancipation (Ron preferred to call it parent – son divorce) would have to make a file detailing why they were doing so, and including basic identifications like a signature. To be fully emancipated, the permission of the majority of members involved was needed (in magical Britain, it was necessary for a child to have at least two guardians)

Ron had absolutely no idea on how to draft one of these files, and so he had found a file of some kid called Ezaliah Rayn, Half blood, who had filed for emancipation, and only his mother had agreed. Ron had made a first draft of the document (his fingers were still hurting from the amount of writing he had had to do), most of which was basically copying from Ezaliah’s file, with a few minor tweaks here and there. Ezaliah had filed on account of physical abuse, but he had replaced that with emotional, and slight verbal abuse. A small grin crossed his face, when he thought of what Hermione would say if she saw him now. _“Ron! You’re doing work on your own!”_ , she’d exclaim in shock, but the grin quickly disappeared when he remembered that they weren’t friends anymore. _None of them ever saw you as worth something. You were just the bloody comic relief, the unwanted one._

Oh, and he also was thinking of trying for a resorting during the next year’s sorting, though that was a story for another time.

As he entered the Great Hall that evening, the first thing that struck him was the gloomy, somber atmosphere, and the black hangings from the ceiling instead of the normal colors of the house which won the cup. The atmosphere seemed to be getting to him as well.

While normally, the place would be loud with chatter and excitement, this time all of that was missing due to Cedric’s death. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cho Chang crying and being held close by a few other Ravenclaws, while the Hufflepuffs all had bloodshot eyes and had lost their usual cheery attitude. There was also some sort of unsaid tension hanging in the air, which Ron couldn’t place.

As his eyes wandered to the Gryffindor table, he caught Potter and Granger’s eye, who were sitting right at the front of the table. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes flashed an icy blue which froze his two ex-friends, before he went over to the table and sat as far from him as possible.

Dumbledore once again gave his leaving speech, though this one was more serious and longer than all the other ones. He told them all that they had to stay together as darkness has returned to the world, before the food appeared at the table.

Even the food didn’t taste as good as before, and Ron found himself one of the last people left in the hall, as he wanted to talk to the headmaster. But before he could reach the fabled wizard, he was cornered by none other than Hermione Granger.

“Ron, we need to talk.”, she said in her holier-than-thou tone, causing Ron’s temper to flare immediately.

“Listen here, Granger.”, he started, talking in a cold, hard voice which was so not… _Ron,_ that Hermione winced and took a step back. Him addressing her as ‘Granger’ also hurt more than she let on.

“If you’ve come here to tell me that it’s not your fault, and the adults are right to leave me in the dust, then I swear I’m gonna hex you into next week. And if you’ve come here to apologize, and request the ‘golden trio’, to come back together, then you are painfully mistaken.”, he said, voice dripping with contempt and hate.

“There is no, and will never be any ‘Harry, Ron, and Hermione’, ever again. Both you and Potter made your choices in the hospital wing a week ago, and now all of us have to learn to live with the consequences, and frankly speaking, I’m doing much better off without the two of you, and have no wish of coming back, groveling to you for _your_ mistakes”, he said, pointing at her chest. Every word sent a knife of ice through her heart, and then it was twisted in by the fact that he was _right_. It had all been their fault, and Ron had indeed been doing better without her and Harry. It was in fact, the two of them who needed Ron more. But none of that stopped the pain.

The arguing pair didn’t even notice, that with every contemptuous word Ron said, a random utensil exploded near him, due to his rampant magic. The last few people left in the hall were now staring at Ron with fearful expressions, and Dumbledore was looking at the exchange worriedly. Ron didn’t know that the news of him blowing up the infirmary doors without a wand had reached every year in Hogwarts, and everyone was a bit scared of him, and rightfully so.

“Now, if you could please leave me alone, or I might end up hurting you or someone else in this room.”, and with those dismissive words, he brushed her away and made his way to the staff table.

In his wake, Hermione stood in the entrance to the hall, her jaw slack and tears falling from her brown eyes. No, this couldn’t be happening….Ron, the boy she’d fancied since second year, had just dismissed her like she was worth nothing.

It was like someone was tearing her apart from the inside, determined on leaving her a shell of her usual self. This was not at all like Ron. Her Ron was never dismissive of anyone. He was kind, caring, and even when they bickered, he had an aura of angry passion surrounding him.

But this…this Ron reminded her of Voldemort from Harry’s stories of the graveyard. He was cold, calculating, hard, unforgiving, and his eyes….those eyes had lost all traces of warmth from them. These eyes promised her _pain_ , and revenge, for all she had done to him.

_Did we really hurt him so much? Is this what I really am inside? A monster who betrays her own best friend?_

“Hermione?”, she heard Harry’s voice appearing out of nowhere, no doubt trying to comfort her. Without thinking, she ran, ran from Harry Potter, due to whom this was all happening, ran from the great hall where the final nail in their friendship’s coffin had been put, ran from Ron, who was not her funny, kind, charming Ron. She just wanted to spend some time alone. Automatically, her feet carried her to the Gryffindor common room, and she ran up the stairs to her dorm, and stuffed her face into the pillow, letting the tears and sobs wrack her body. She did not notice the curious and worried looks she received from her room mates in the common room, nor did she notice as someone, Parvati Patil, threw a blanket over her.

In the great hall, Ron stormed over to the head table. He didn’t even send a second glance at Granger, who had run off crying, though his heart kept telling him to go apologize, to hold her close and comfort her. _No, I have made my choice, and I will not go back on it._ He also brushed away the fact, that there was a dark part of his mind which was enjoying how he had hurt the girl he had once fancied.

**********

Albus Dumbledore POV

Albus Dumbledore watched upon the whole scene worriedly, and in shock. It was painfully obvious to even the teachers that Ronald and Hermione liked each other, but what he had just witnessed was so unlike Ronald’s character that he thought for a second that the boy had been possessed.

He had also cast a long range hearing charm so that he could hear the conversation better from his seat, and his jaw nearly fell open when he heard Ron speak. Ronald was usually a kind, funny, charming, and caring boy. Yes, he sometimes let his insecurities get the better of him, but this was not at all like him. He also didn’t get what Ronald meant by ‘you and Potter made your choice in the hospital wing’. He knew that the two had had a fight again, but calling his friend with his last name? That was something totally new.

“Professor Dumbledore, could I speak to you in private for a moment?”, Ronald asked once he had reached the head table, breaking Albus out of his musings. “Yes, Mr. Weasley. It appears that you, Mr. Potter, and Ms. Granger have had an argument.”, he said kindly to the child.

Immediately, his eyes flashed a cold, icy blue for a second, something which caused the man’s eyes to widen. But his expression quickly morphed to a curious one. “Really? I thought you, of all people. Would be the first to know of the argument.”, he said in surprise.

Tentatively, Albus attempted legilimency while staring into those blue eyes which were so like his own, and to his astonishment, he was met by impressive occlumency shields.

_Something is most definitely wrong here. No fourth year should even know of occlumency, let alone have such strong shields._

As soon as he met the shields, Ron’s brows furrowed. He looked around, as if looking for something, breaking eye contact, but he soon shrugged off the feeling and went on to talk with the headmaster, who had gotten up from his seat, curious to know what had happened to make these shields.

The duo walked to the nearest abandoned classroom. Where Ronald cast a wordless silencing and locking charm on the door. _Hmmm, impressive._

“So, headmaster”, he started. “Do you really not know of why we have split?”, he asked incredulously, and Albus simply shook his head. He did not want to use legilimency again.

Ron sighed before starting his explanation. “It appears, that Lupin held a meeting after You – know – who came back, where they discussed who all Potter should be interacting with. In that meeting, it was decided that I would have to stay away from the boy who lived as I was, in their words, ‘holding him back’, and instead he should be friends with Granger and Longbottom.”, he narrated, voice bitter.

“So, a week ago, when Granger and I were visiting him in the hospital wing, Moody and Lupin told us everything that happened. Turns out, in the vote, even my own family agreed to throw me out like a piece of trash, and then, even my two ‘friends’”, he said, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Decided that I wasn’t worth their precious time. And so, we are no longer a team, and frankly speaking, I feel I’m doing better off without them.”, he said, completing his tale.

Albus was now well and truly in shock. _How could they have done this to a 14 year old boy? Which sort of monster separates three friends with such a close bond? And how did they do this without even talking to me?_

He had never expected Molly and Arthur Weasley capable of such a vile act. Even as he saw the Weasley children, he sometimes used to be jealous of them, simply due to the fact that they had such loving and caring parents, while in his youth, he had thrown away his family in pursuit of his ambitions, and yet, here was Ronald Weasley.

“And….you aren’t pained, or angry at all?”, he asked tentatively. Ronald laughed mirthlessly, something he had never thought the red head would do.

“Obviously I am! You think I didn’t shed any tears at all after they cut me off like a rotten branch? I cried for two hours, and nearly broke my fist punching walls!”

“But then, when I thought about it, I wasn’t all too surprised by my family and friends throwing me away.”

“Ronald, that isn’t true. Your family did love you,”, he said, though it seemed he was assuring himself more than the hurt child before him. He had always thought that love was the greatest power, but if Harry himself couldn’t love, then he had no idea what could defeat Voldemort.

“You see, I was always the least favourite of the bunch in my family. All my brothers and sisters were praised and always got new things, while I got only hand me downs. Hell, even my wand was basically broken for my first two years!”

Albus had always believed that material things weren’t a measure of one’s love, but he wasn’t so sure of it now. He had seen how all the other Weasley children got much better things than Ronald, and yet he never complained. Even when he had broken his wand while helping Harry in second year, he had not received a proper replacement.

He knew that Ronald suffered from a severe inferiority complex, and was guilty to say that he had done nothing to help heal it either. He had never called the poor child to his office, and when he had single handedly slain a mountain troll at 11, he had all but ignored his achievement.

“Then, it’s painfully obvious that Molly Weasley would prefer Harry Potter as her son. Remember the attack during the Quidditch world cup? Well, that woman hugged _every single one_ of my brothers, happy that they were safe and sound, but then she totally ignored me and instead went and embraced Potter and Granger. It was like I didn’t even exist.”, he ranted, letting out all of his anger and pain.

Albus visibly _flinched_ at this memory, as it reminded him too much of how he had been as a youth. He too had totally ignored his brother and sister in favor of Gellert. He could feel the familiar signs of anger generating in his heart, but managed to tame it as he didn’t want anyone to get harmed by his wild magic.

On the topic of wild magic, he had seen how Ronald’s magic had destroyed several pieces of cutlery in the hall, and was shocked at the immense display of power.

But then, out of nowhere, Ron’s voice lost its heated nature and was replaced by a cold hard voice uncharacteristic of the red head. It reminded him of Voldemort’s voice.

“And so, after a while, I decided to stop moping around, and fucking do something. So I started practicing magic in empty classrooms and checking up laws on emancipation – “

“WAIT, WHAT!”, he exclaimed, losing his usual calm demeanour completely. Ron smirked at being able to take the Albus Dumbledore totally off guard.

“Yes, you heard me right, I plan to emancipate myself from the Weasley family. Since they have made it clear that they don’t want anything to do with me, I don’t want anything to do with them either.”, he said with false cheerfulness.

Albus Dumbledore was now truly worried. For a second, he worried if the boy had broken under the pain, but this was quickly proven false when he started explaining the laws of emancipation properly. Albus knew them because he too had thought of filing for it as a youth.

“You see, my mother will surely agree, and I too want to leave them, and when a majority of involved groups say yes, emancipation is permitted.”

“Ronald, don’t you think this is a bit too….extreme?”, he asked tentatively. He was reminding the man more and more of Voldemort. Independent, not giving a damn about others, and mood swings. Not to mention the weird eyes.

“Yup! I’m perfectly serious. Now, onto what I wanted to talk to you about. I know that when the Weasleys are transferred to the Order HQ or safehouse, they will leave me behind, alone at the burrow or with Muriel, and I have absolutely no intent on listening to them. Since I have no idea where the HQ is, I want to stay behind at Hogwarts for the summer hols, which is why I want to know what happens to the school during the summer.”, he said as if it was perfectly normal to want to emancipate yourself, and then stay back at the school during the summer vacation, something no one had ever done.

Albus, unable to deal with this overflow of developments, sat down on one of the chairs, removed his glasses, and massaged the bridge of his nose.

“And what makes you think that I’ll allow you to stay back at school during the break?”, he asked at last.

At once, the cheerful Ronald was gone, replaced once more by the cold, hard Ron. “It was due to _your_ Order, that I’m in this position right now. So, the least you could do is give me a home over the summer, where I can practice magic.”, he said, and Albus had to concede.

“Alright, but since it’s _my_ Order, don’t you think I can ask them to rethink their decision.”, he asked. He had seen what Ronald Weasley was capable of when he was angry, or when he had put his mind to it, and it frankly scared him.

He thought about it for a few moments before answering. “Well, you could, but I don’t want to go back groveling to them for _their_ mistakes. Because when you think of it, I have indeed been doing better off without any of them.”, he said, before leaning forward on his elbows and continuing while looking the wizard straight in the eyes.

“They’ve made their bed, so now they’ve got to sleep in it as well.”, he said in the coldest voice he had ever heard, on par with Voldemort’s voice.

After a few seconds of silence, he asked his next question, still trying to dissuade the child from his path, though he couldn’t deny that he too wanted to see the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry learn their lesson.

“Ok, say I allow you to live here, and your emancipation goes to plan. What will you do next? Gryffindor house will make your life a living hell, and you will no doubt be ostracized among society. Not to mention, you won’t have a surname, and nor will you have a guardian.”, he asked, thinking that he would finally manage to convince Ronald not to go ahead with his plan.

Instead, what he got was the red head smirking at him and leaning back in his chair, the picture of relaxation. “Well, after I get emancipated, I’ll ask Sirius and you to become my guardians, and I’m sure that you won’t refuse, seeing that you had quite a visible reaction when you heard how my family treated me. Also, I know Sirius will accept me as he wasn’t there in the hospital wing during the meeting, and Remus looked much more tired than usual. Like he had a fight.”

“Sirius also wasn’t mentioned even once among the list of people who hate me, and so I can safely assume that he’s with me. After that, at the next sorting, I’ll apply for a resorting, so that I could be as far as possible from Potter and Granger as possible.”, and just for fun, he added, “Simple!”

This time, Albus Dumbledore’s jaw _did_ drop open, something he had been holding back for quite some time. And here was the proof that when Ronald Weasley put his mind and heart in something, he would do it perfectly. He had planned everything, down to the last bit, played perfectly like a fellow chess master.

After a few moments which he took to calm himself, he finally spoke again. He couldn’t deny that he was impressed by the boy’s intelligence, and wondered why he hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin.

In reality, Ron had thought quite a bit about the re sorting, as he had no doubt that if it happened, he would end up in Slytherin, a house he had been brought up to hate. But then again, he had just found out that his entire family were gits, and so their teachings didn’t count. But then again, there was the fact that most Slytherins were bastards. But when he thought about it, the only Slytherins in his year whom he knew were Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle, and his year mates were probably going to be the only ones he interacted with. So, in the end, he had agreed with the idea.

However, albus knew that there were some places that his plan could be improved, and that included the part where he and Sirius would be made his guardians.

“Mr. Weasley, there is one place where your plan could be improved”, he started, trying to keep a smirk from his face. It had been a long time since he had sat with someone and plotted a ‘nefarious’ plan. He still remembered how he and Gellert sometimes sat and planned ways to escape their homes together.

“I don’t think that making Sirius or I your legal guardian would be a good idea, as ‘Ronald Dumbledore’ or ‘Ronald Black’ would be awkward for both of us. Instead, I recommend that you choose Andromeda and Ted Tonks as your guardians.”, seeing Ronald’s confused look, he decided to elaborate.

“Andromeda Tonks is the sister of Bellatrix and Narcissa. She is a healer at St. Mungos, and isn’t a member of the order either. I’m sure that you will be safe with her and Ted, and the name ‘Ronald Tonks’, would cause a lot fewer questions.”, he explained.

“Hmmm, so with that I assume that you are okay with my plan, and will assist me as well?”, he asked, to which the headmaster replied with a nod.

Ronald beamed at him, something which he hadn’t done in a long time. “Thank you, professor! Could you please contact these two people to see if they are alright with my plan?”

“Yes, I will. Oh! And one more thing. Take this and memorize what’s written on it”, he said, handing him a piece of paper with “12 Grimmauld Place is the headquarters of the Order Of The Phoenix” written on it.

Ronald read the paper a few times until he had learnt the text, before handing it back to the headmaster. “Ok, but why did I have to memorize it?”, he asked curiously.

“12 Grimmauld Place is the headquarters of the order, and it is protected by the Fidelius charm, of which I am the secret keeper.”, he explained.

“And what on earth is a fidelius charm?”, he asked. Albus smirked at him before answering. “Oh, that you’ll have to find on your own. I believe the library is open for another hour or so.”, he said, mirth evident in his voice.

Ron huffed in annoyance and amusement. “Didn’t think I’d ever hear Albus Dumbledore make a joke.”, he quipped before getting up.

“Oh, and you did say that you would help me with everything, right? Well then, I expect you to support me during my emancipation trial. Also, please troubleshoot this.”, he said while taking out a copy of his emancipation files from his pocket.

The room had shown him quite a handy charm called _‘gemino’_ which duplicated things. It had taken him three days (along with time turner repetitions) to learn it, but it was totally worth it.

Albus whipped around to glare at the boy, but he had disappeared, leaving behind an open door, and a very curious 2nd year looking at him. Albus Dumbledore may have just been manipulated.

The old headmaster let out a chuckle as he waved away the child and began reading the files. It had been a long time since he’d had such subtle, but harmless word play, and he had missed it quite a bit.

He found himself regretting not having met Ronald Weasley earlier. He had always brushed him off as not too special, but it appeared that the child was quite extraordinary. He had most certainly never imagined that his first meeting with the red head would include surprise revelation, an emancipation, adoptions, and a slight manipulation. He looked forward to his next meeting with the red head.

*************

The next morning, after breakfast, while the other children were heading towards the train, Albus Dumbledore met Ronald Weasley in the same abandoned classroom.

He had proofread the files, as he had grown a bit fond of the red head. He too was quite shocked by some of the things he had read in the file. While not directly physical abuse from the parents, watching your twins burn a hole in the tongue of your youngest son, and only giving them a slap on the wrist compared to what they deserved, was indirectly abuse. And this was forgetting the arachnophobia, deprecation, and unbreakable vow, for which the twins also received very lax punishments.

“Ronald, I have gone through the files and corrected them. Your grammar is atrocious, but I will still support you during the trial. I have also contacted Andromeda, and she’ll be coming to Hogwarts in three days. Will you be staying here or with the Weasleys?”, he said while handing the teenager the files.

Ronald quickly went over the important parts, and was really touched by the amount of help the headmaster had given him. If someone once told him that the Albus Dumbledore would be helping him in getting a divorce from his parents, he would have laughed in their face. But well, this was actually happening.

Unbidden, he felt tears coming to his eyes, which he quickly wiped away. “Thank you, professor, for everything.”, he said with absolute sincerity, and Albus Dumbledore felt his heart melt.

“Also, I will have to live at the burrow for the time being, but I will be coming here as soon as possible. Do keep your floo open.”, he said and Albus nodded.

“Take care, Ronald.”, he said. Ronald gave him a short nod, and the two shook hands before the red head made his way to the train.

As the red head left, Albus Dumbledore had to clear his head to shake off thoughts of himself adopting Ronald as his own son. There just seemed to be _something_ about the red head which pulled Albus’s soul and magic towards him, and he for the life of him couldn’t place the feeling. But one thing was certain, he was growing quite attached to the boy, and surprisingly quickly.

_No, I can’t get too attached to one person. It would be the death of me._

**************

Ronald Weasley’s POV

The train ride was quite weird compared to the other times. This time, he just sat alone in one of the compartments, without Harry and Hermione, which was something he had never done before. Every time he saw the empty seat in front of him, he was reminded of an 11 year boy with a chocolate frog in his hands, and a 12 year old girl with her head buried under a huge mess of bushy hair, and a book, a pang of pain went through his heart, but he pushed down the urge to go sit with Potter and Granger.

And so, he decided to test out _‘sectumsempra’_. He had brought a few dirty pillows from the RoR, and shrunk them to store them in his pocket. He expanded them and kept them against the window.

He placed a locking and silencing charm on the door, before turning to the pillow, wand in hand. _‘Sectumesempra!’_ , he incanted, loud and clear, his wand performing the downward slashing motion.

At once, huge gashes, like someone had attacked it with a sword, appeared on the pillow. “Holy crap!”, he explained, surprised at how quickly he had gotten it, and the amount of power this one spell carried. He slowly stepped forward and picked up the pillow, examining it.

He tried repairing it, but it didn’t work. _Bloody hell, this is one badass spell._ In his mind, he made a mental note to never use the spell on a human being unless absolutely necessary.

He spent the next hour trying to improve the strength and speed of the spell, and an hour later, the pillows were in a million pieces. With one last slash, he cut 3 books in half, with one spell. _Bloody hell._

He was exhausted, and his arm was aching, but he felt happy. He knew this feeling from the dark magic, but he found himself beginning to enjoy the dark arts.

 _If the dark arts are so effective, simple, and fill you with such a good feeling, then why don’t more people practice them?_ , he asked himself, and he already had the answer.

_It’s because people have grown up on horror stories of Voldemort, and so they pin the blame on the dark arts as well. But the dark arts are necessary for defeating the dark lord. You can’t honestly throw a stunner at him and expect to win. You need powerful magic, dark magic._

Seeing that he still had 2 hours, he decided to sleep, but only after eating (he had smuggled food from the kitchens). His dreams were once more filled with images of him ruling over the world, unlimited power in his hands.

He decided to ignore the fact that, while he’d been the ruler, Harry and Hermione had been on his side, even in his dreams.

When he awoke, the train had already pulled into Kings cross station. With a start, he woke up and put his shrunk trunk into his pocket (with a sticking charm of course), and made his way onto the platform.

As soon as he got off, the first thing he saw was a huge family of red heads, along with a brunette and a black haired boy. _Weasleys,_ he thought bitterly.

Reluctantly he made his way towards them, and immediately, Molly Weasley was scolding him.

“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! WHERE ON EARTH WERE YOU! WE HAVE BE – “, but before she could say anything else, her head snapped towards the side as if someone had slapped her. Ron’s eyes widened in surprise, and glee.

Little did he know, his magic was whipping around him in a storm, stronger than ever before due to the dark magic he had been practicing. It was this whirlpool which had slapped the woman.

When Molly Weasley turned her head, he saw that there was a small cut on her cheek, and he felt just the _tiniest_ bit of worry. “Mrs. Weasley, are you alright?”, Granger asked worriedly.

Said woman assured her that she was alright before sending a glare in Ron’s direction as if _he_ was the one who’d slapped her (though he wished he had done it). In return, he simply cocked his head and eyes her curiously.

As they walked to the car, the boy who lived strode up to him. “Hey, where’s your trunk?”, he asked, the annoying brat. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to interact with the boy who lived, my ex – best friend”, he responded with a sneer, voice dripping with false cheer.

Both Potter and Granger flinched violently, and Ron took great pleasure in what he was capable with just one word. _Words are powerful,_ he noted.

Soon, Potter was taken home by his relatives, and Granger went off with her parents. When they got into the car, Ron took the window seat, and ignored everyone the entire trip, not uttering a single word. If anyone had looked at him closely, they would have noticed that his eyes were glazed over, as he was dreaming about what he would do when he got to Hogwarts, and the day of emancipation.

At long last, they reached the rickety rabbit hole which they called their home, and Ron, for the first time in his life felt ashamed of his ‘home’, though along with that shame, there was the sorrow which came with the thought of leaving behind a place he had so many memories attached to.

He quickly ran into the building, and immediately ran into his room. He wanted to finish all the summer assignments he had quickly so that he would be free at Hogwarts. However, as expected, he only managed to sit still for 15 minutes, before he got bored and took out his chessboard.

Half an hour of chess later, he locked the door and took out a book on spells he had taken from the room. He had already mastered _‘Sectumsempra’_ , so now it was time to move on to other spells.

He decided that he would check out his blasting curses, along with a bone shattering hex he found in the pages of the tome. And so, he once more shrunk his book and went out of the house, heading towards the tree line.

As soon as he entered, the first thing he noticed was the smell, and no matter how hard he tried to not let his legs take him to the kitchen, he just couldn’t resist the wonderful food. _I’m gonna miss this,_ he thought idly.

Within seconds, he found himself in front of the dining table, where Molly Weasley had just placed down a platter of fried chicken. He not – so – discreetly plucked a piece and started to drool over it. Merlin, was he hungry.

Suddenly, a hand slapped the back of his head, and he turned around to see the angry, but amused face of his _mother_ , and the sight nearly broke him.

At that moment, it looked like she loved him, truly loved him. Like she would never leave him, and he could count on this woman to take care of him forever. He very nearly broke, and hugged her and told her everything about his plan, and he had to bite his tongue until it drew blood to not do something stupid.

He dropped the chicken, and ran out the door, not wanting to see those brown eyes again. He didn’t want anyone to see his tears.

_No! No! You’ve worked so hard for this! You can’t lose all of this, just because you saw your mot – Molly Weasley’s face! Remember how horribly she treated you your entire childhood! Think! Think of how you were her least favourite, and how you were nothing more than an extra mouth for her!_

Soon, he found himself in front of the trees, and without thinking, began whipping out blasting curse after blasting curse at them. 15 minutes later, he had totally and utterly destroyed 10, huge trees, and he was on the ground, panting from exertion. Every time he had cast a curse, he had tried to imagine the faces of Harry, Hermione, or his parents in front of him, but it was very difficult during the first 5 minutes. During that time, he had imagined the faces of Moody, Lupin, and his version of Voldemort. However, after that, a strange sense of purpose had descended upon him, and he found himself replacing the trees with the faces of Potter, Granger, and his ‘parents’. Now, he found himself feeling much more clear headed than before.

_What’s done is done. They cut you off without a second thought, and now it’s your turn to return the favour. Stop being a ninny and get on with your practice._

He conjured up some water with _‘Aguamenti’_ , which he drank down earnestly, before getting up once more and moving to a different part of the tree line, but not before collecting an armful of branches and twigs which he would need for practicing rumpere.

He floated the branches in the air with a levitation charm, before saying the incantation along with the wand movement (a weird sort of quick, counterclockwise semi circle). The first few tries yielded no results. At the end of another 30 minutes, he could completely shatter a twig, and cause a network of cracks to appear in a thick branch. He seriously needed to practice dueling without emotion, as he couldn’t really depend on anger to overpower him all the time. But that training could start at Hogwarts.

As he trudged over to the burrow, he made up a resolution for the three days he would be staying there. He would try his best to avoid all his family members, and if he had to talk to them, he wouldn’t talk too much, or look them in the eye.

He couldn’t afford to back away now. He was in way too far.

***************

Those three days must have been the most difficult three days of Ron’s life. The atmosphere around the house was much tenser than usual.

It also turned out that Ron had totally forgotten to clean up after his practice during the first day, and Percy had stumbled upon them. He had cornered Ron in his room after dinner, when he asked him what exactly had happened. Turns out, no one had told Percy anything either.

He had demanded to know what had happened, and Ron told him everything (except for his plan. No one needed to know of that for now.), all while sobbing into his brother’s shoulder like a crybaby.

Percy had been furious, more furious than he had ever seen him. Ron found out that Percy had believed that Harry was lying, but seeing the drastic actions that been taken, he had been convinced that Voldemort was really back. His usually uptight brother had ranted in Ron’s room for 15 minutes about the stupidity of the Weasley’s, before leaving to his room in a huff.

The next morning at breakfast, Percy left the Weasleys, after he gave them a huge piece of his mind. He had literally exploded at Molly and Arthur, screaming about how they were horrible human beings who treated their youngest son like dirt. He then went on to screw Fred, George, and Ginny over, saying that they were spoilt brats, finally ending by telling _Bill and Charlie_ , his bloody role models, that they had sticks up their arses, and thought that they were too smart for their own good.

In the argument, it had also come out that Arthur Weasley had abstained from voting. Percy had called him a coward, something which struck _hard_. Ron didn’t really know what to think.

After that last part, Molly Weasley had told Percy to get out, which he gladly did, but not before giving Ron his address, where he said that he could come for help at any time. And then, he had made the most dramatic exit of all time, slamming the door in Arthur Weasley’s face.

Even though he received filthy glares from his siblings and Molly Weasley, Ron thought that it was all worth it. Percy’s actions truly warmed Ron’s heart, and made him feel loved. He was really ecstatic at the fact that at least _someone_ in his family would do all this for him.

Ron had never thought that he would say this, but Percy was officially his favourite family member now.

Today was the third day at the Burrow, and as Ron was going down to the kitchen for dinner, he just had a feeling that something big was going to happen today.

Dinner, was as usual, a tense affair. At the end of it, before Ron could go back to his room, Molly Weasley cleared her throat.

“Ron, we’re going to be shifting to the order headquarters tomorrow morning, and you will be staying with aunt Muriel, as per Dumbledore’s instructions.”, she said, without a hint of hesitation.

Ron had to fight the urge to hit the woman with a _rumpere_. If he had been holding his wand, he would have probably done it as well. First of all, she was blatantly treating her own son like shite, and then she was bringing Dumbledore’s name into this? The liar!

Ron took a deep breath to calm himself down. He couldn’t let anyone in on his plan, but he also wanted to have some fun. “Alright then!”, he responded with fake cheer. “I’ll just go pack my bags, and I’ll floo to Muriel’s home tomorrow morning.”

He was pleased to see the shocked look on the Weasley’s faces. _Oh, you have no idea what’s coming your way soon, suckas_

“What? I knew that you guys were going to do something like this, so I’m not really surprised you know.”, he said while staring at the red head family’s astonished faces. Then before they could respond, he traipsed up the stair, and locked his room.

In reality, he had no intention of waiting until tomorrow morning, which was why he planned on staying awake till everyone else had fallen asleep. In the meantime, he sat on his bed, and began writing his leaving letter.

_To Arthur, Molly, William, Charles, Frederick, George, and Ginevra Weasley_

_Ok, so I’m going to keep this letter short and to the point. You guys, have treated me like shit for the past 14 years, and now you’ve basically signed and stamped on the fact that none of you see me as family. And frankly speaking, after you abandoned me, even I don’t see you as family._

_You guys cut me off like a rotting branch, even after all I did for you. I was always the one to get the worst things, and yet, I never complained. At school, I underwent the taunts of the Slytherins for 4 years, and yet I always defended you, never once faltering in my support. But even then, you still chose Harry Potter and Hermione Granger over me._

_And you know what, I’m not even surprised, and neither do I blame you. In your eyes, I’m sure that Potter and Granger are everything that I never was. William was the cool one, Charles worked with dragons, Percy was smart, the twins were the pranksters, and Ginevra was the only girl which automatically means that she can do now wrong. In your eyes, I was nothing but an extra mouth to feed, and so I’ve decided that I don’t need you guys anymore._

_I have found and repaired a muggle house far away from Ottery St. Catchpole, and I’m staying there with a few muggle roommates. I have enough food and water and am comfortable here, though you probably wouldn’t care even if I jumped off a cliff, as I am worthless according to you._

_Don’t even try to contact me._

_I hate all of you other than Percy, and I don’t give a damn whether you live or die._

_Ron_

Along with that, he wrote another letter, this one addressed to Potter and Granger.

_To Harry Potter and Hermione Granger._

_I’m sure you’ve already read the letter addressed to the Weasleys, and so this one is a private message to you from me._

_Frankly speaking, I expected that this would one day happen. You two would realize that you are much better than me in your twisted minds, and then you would leave me in the dust. Hey! Did you know that two of my worst nightmares just came true with this? I had horrors of my family leaving me in favour of Harry Potter, and of you both abandoning me._

_But anyways, you two wouldn’t care about any of that, would you? We’re not friends anymore after all._

_Just, I have one question to ask you, and I don’t even need an answer for it. Did you guys really forget everything I did for you? I sacrificed myself on the chessboard, not knowing if I would die, just so Harry could get the stone and Hermione wouldn’t have to be the one to be sacrificed. I faced my greatest fear in the forest, just so Hermione could have a chance to wake up. I stood against a supposed mass murderer, with a broken leg, and offered myself up for you. I always stood up against Snape whenever he insulted one of you, and you forgot about all of that?_

_You know what, I already know the answer to that question. You didn’t forget about it, you just paid attention to my insecurities, and ripped me apart on the basis of something that everyone has._

_I don’t even care about you anymore. Don’t ever expect me to stand up for any of you ever again. And in battle, if there’s a curse coming your way, earlier I would have jumped in front of it, but don’t expect me to do that now._

_Don’t even try to contact me, and Hermione, if you corner me one more time to talk, I swear I’m, gonna hex you so bad you’re never gonna be able to walk again._

_With lots and lots of hate, your ex – best friend._

When he had finished writing, his hands were shaking from anticipation, pent up anger, and satisfaction at how the readers would be hurt. But along with that, there was a certain bit of pain attached as well.

He checked if he had everything ready, including Dumbledore’s note on why he was being allowed to stay at Hogwarts over the summer. As he re-read it one last time, he thought of how under normal conditions, Harry and he would have jumped on this opportunity and would have spent the entire day playing quidditch.

 _Stop it, he’s not your friend anymore_.

Checking his watch for the time, he slowly crept out of his room after casting a _‘silencio’_ on his feet so he could walk noiselessly. Everyone was asleep, and no one woke up when he reached the fireplace.

He cast another _silencio_ on the fireplace, before taking a larger amount of floo powder than necessary and flinging it into the fireplace. As he walked into the green flames, he whispered clearly, “Dumbledore’s office, Hogwarts.”

The green fire whirled around him, causing lights to dance in front of his eyes, and in a second, he was stumbling out of the floo in the headmaster’s office, landing in an unceremonious heap before the old wizard.

“Ronald, I see you’re not exceptionally skilled at travelling by floo. Oh! And welcome back.”, he said as a way of greeting.

Ron got up and dusted himself, before turning to the headmaster. “Never thought I’d be sharing jokes with the Albus Dumbledore. Ummm, professor? I’m very sleepy right now, so may I have leave?”

“Oh, of course, Ronald. But do remember to wake up before 9 o’clock tomorrow morning. Breakfast is served earlier during the summer in the great hall.”

As Ron walked down the dark halls of the school. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of fear, as the scene looked like something straight out of a nightmare. The only light was the moonlight and the candles, and the paintings seemed to be staring at him specifically. He was constantly on edge, expecting something to pop out of nowhere and attack him.

The fat lady jumped in her skin when Ron appeared before her. “WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING HERE AT THIS TIME!”, she screamed. Ron simply rolled his eyes and showed her the permit by Dumbledore, after which she swung inwards, revealing the common room

Ron had never seen the common room without any people. The fireplace was still burning due to the house elves, but the place seemed to have lost all its warmth without any people there. It just seemed wrong on a billion different levels.

Not wanting to stay in the common room and bring back memories, he went up to the dorm room and jumped on to his four poster, and shut his eyes tight, willing for sleep to come, which it did after 5 minutes. This time, his dreams were filled with nightmares of the hospital wing.

****************

The next morning, he was woken by something hard and sharp pecking him on his forehead. “Ouch!”, he exclaimed while getting up and looking around for the intruder of his sleep.

He found a brown owl, sitting on his drawer, looking at him with a decidedly annoyed expression. “Yeah, yeah, you come and break my head, and then you say I’m annoying!”, he said while rubbing his head and untying the letter it had tied to its leg.

 _Hey, how did it even get inside?_ , he thought as the owl flew away towards the common room. He opened the letter and read the contents, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

 _You’re late for breakfast_ , was all that the letter contained, and it was enough for Ron. Dumbledore had somehow sent an owl, inside the school, to peck him until he woke up, just so he could tell him that he was late. _That old coot,_ he thought in annoyance.

3 minutes later, he had brushed his teeth, cleaned himself with a quick _scourgify_ , and had reached the great hall, and the sight before him was quite shocking.

The four house tables had disappeared, and in its stead, was one, medium sized table, on which all the teachers were seated. They were talking cheerfully, Sprout was fiddling with her wand, and Flitwick was playing cards with Hooch. The sight was so not what you would expect from a teacher that Ron had to wipe his eyes to check if he wasn’t dreaming. Hell, McGonaggal seemed to be placing bets with Snape!

Just then, Professor Trelawney noticed him staring at their group, and her jaw fell open. She spluttered for a few moments, unable to speak. “What is it, Sybill?”, Sinistra asked in a worried tone.

At last, she found her voice. “W – what is Mr. Weasley doing there?”, she shrieked while pointing at the red head. At once, all heads turned to him, and all the teachers dropped whatever they were holding at the time. This included a cup of tea in McGonaggal’s hand. Ron made a mental note to keep that memory cherished in his mind forever.

His eyes then wandered to the headmaster who was watching the scene with a smug smirk. _That bastard!_ Normally, Ron would have felt his blood boil at being addressed by Mr. Weasley, but this time, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry.

The sight was just too damn amusing with the teachers’ flabbergasted expressions, with the funniest ones being Snape and McGonaggal’s, with their slack jaws.

And so, Ron laughed.

He laughed deeply and heartily for atleast thirty seconds, until out of nowhere, he found himself floating in the air under a full body bind, all while staring straight into Snape’s wand.

“Are you really Ronald Weasley!”, he demanded in a voice louder than he had ever heard him use, and it shut Ron up immediately. _Someone help me. I don’t wanna end up as potions ingredients for the seventh years._

And luckily for him, Albus Dumbledore decided to intervene at that moment. “Severus, leave him.”, he said with mirth evident in his voice. “I called him here. Ronald, please join us at the table for breakfast.”, he said, as if it was very common to see a student appear at Hogwarts during summer vacations.

At last, Snape lowered his wand, and Ron slowly made his way to the chair the headmaster had conjured, all while trying to ignore the stares he was receiving from the rest of the teachers.

“Albus! Why have you invited a student to Hogwarts during the summer break?”, asked the librarian incredulously.

“Well, I believe Ronald here would be the best person to explain that.”, he replied, voice turning solemn in the blink of an eye.

“Er – it’s a very long story, so it will take some time.”, he started tentatively. He had never received so much attention in his entire life. “Do not worry, Mr. Weasley, we have plenty of time.”, Snape said in his typical silky voice with a sneer. This time, Ron did feel his blood boil, and he started to narrate his story.

15 minutes, a cup of bitter, yet invigorating coffee, and several incredulous exclamations later, the teachers were all staring at Ron. He had told them about the basics of what had happened, though he left out the part about emancipation and resorting. Those were going to be a surprise for later.

“I’m really sorry for your loss, Ronald.”, his head of house said while patting his shoulder.

“Don’t be. I’m doing much better without those traitors anyways.”, he replied through gritted teeth. McGonaggal just sighed and went back to her seat. Ron looked around the table, and was surprised to see that for some reason, Snape seemed to be in pain after his narration. _Maybe he too is remembering something which he did earlier. Never thought snape could have a heart._

Ron sat down and ate his meal in a total of 5 minutes. None of the teachers scolded him for lack of table manners, but only gave him words of comfort like “If you ever need help, do come to me.”

Once he was done, Dumbledore called him to his office. The untold message was that they were going to meet the Tonkses. The moment he entered and saw the woman, he had his wand out in his hand pointed at her.

He had obviously heard of who Bellatrix Lestrange was, as had every single pureblood child of his generation, and this woman looked exactly like Bellatrix from the pictures Fred and George had shown him as a child to scare the shit out of him.

The woman simply sighed, and the headmaster put a hand on Ron’s arm. “Ronald, this isn’t Bellatrix Lestrange. This is Andromeda Tonks. Though they may look very similar, they are very different people.”, he assured.

Ron quickly pocketed his wand, blushing in embarrassment. “I’m sorry”, he mumbled to the couple, and instead of the tiny smile he had expected, the man burst into laughter. “Don’t worry, son, it’s happened a lot of times, and it never gets any less hilarious!”

“Ted!”, the woman shout-whispered at the man in annoyance. It was only then that Ron paid attention to the couple’s features. Andromeda had black hair that fell to her shoulders, a sharp, aristocratic nose, pale skin, and beautiful violet eyes. Ron might have lusted after her if she wasn’t 30 years older than him

On the other hand, the man had a bit of a pot belly, had a light beard, hazel eyes, and average length sandy brown hair. His eyes seemed to be in a perpetual state of joy, and even though he wasn’t the best looking person around, he just made you feel happy by being near him.

Ron wondered how such a beautiful person as Andromeda had ended up with Ted, but when he looked at the two of them together, he had the answer immediately. They simply seemed to fit together, like they were built for each other. Andromeda seemed to be a normally serious person, but Ted made her loosen up and make her laugh. They looked perfect for each other.

With a pang, the scene reminded him of Hermione and him. Ted’s eyes had the cheer and laughter that Ron’s eyes had lost 10 days ago. He knew that he and Hermione bickered a lot, but he also knew that he was one of the few people, if not the only one, who could get Hermione Jean Granger to relax.

Unbidden, he felt tears pop into his eyes at the thought of his ex – crush. _No! stop it!_ He felt a warm, old hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Dumbledore’s eyes. Without a word exchanged, he knew that Dumbledore knew of what he had been thinking.

He took a deep breath to study himself, before turning to the couple. “So, I take it that professor Dumbledore has told you everything, Mr. and Mrs. Tonks?”

“Yes, Ronald, and I must say, I’m surprised you weren’t sorted into Slytherin.”, Andromeda replied. “Oh, and please call us Teddy and Andromeda.”, Ted added.

“Alright then ….Teddy and ….Andromeda. Oh, and I also plan on getting resorted in the next year, though I’d like to keep that a surprise for my peers and teachers.”

Ted nodded solemnly before answering, “Yes. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to see McGonaggal and Snape’s faces during the event!”, he said in a sagely voice, and Ron couldn’t help but crack at the way the man said it. Even Dumbledore and Andromeda were chuckling.

“Oh, and Ron?”, started Andromeda once the laughter had stopped. “I think you’d like to know the details of what had happened during the ….meeting.”, she said, and Ron’s expression immediately darkened.

But before Ron could wonder how they would know the details, the fireplace suddenly flashed green, before a very ….colourful person came stumbling out of the flames, and Ron had to hold her up to stop her from toppling him over.

Blushing, the woman (girl?) picked herself up, and brushed her clothes. She was a very interesting looking person. She was wearing high, black leather boots, had a pretty heart shaped face, and was wearing ripped jeans along with some sort of muggle shirt which Ron had no idea about. But her most interesting features were her eyes and hair. Her hair was a flashy, bubblegum pink, and her eyes seemed to have no fixed color. Ron wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, or if they were shifting colors continuously.

“Dora!”, Andromeda scolded, while the other two men chuckled in the background. Ron assumed that this was their daughter.

“Sorry, mum! Oh, and sorry for messing up your office, professor, and also sorry Ronald for nearly bowling you over.”, she apologized in rapid fire, proving Ron’s suspicions right. “Oh, don’t worry, Nymphadora. I’ve become used to people messing up my office while coming by floo.”, he said, while sending a pointed look at the red head, who huffed in annoyance.

“Oh, ok. And where are my manners!”, she exclaimed while slapping her head. “Nymphadora Tonks, Auror and order member.”, she introduced while putting out her had for a handshake.

Ron took it and firmly shook her hand. It was much cooler than he had expected. “Ron, hater of Weasleys, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, most Order members, and future Slytherin.”, he introduced. None of them missed the way Ron refused to use a surname, and their faces became a bit solemn at that.

“Oh, so I guess you can call me sister now, right?’, she asked sincerely. Ron was stumped. He had never really considered having a sister other than Ginny, as for the past 15 years, in his eyes she had been perfect. Then, of course, everything happened.

“Alright then….sister.’, he said slowly. Albus noticed how he had seemed stumped by the thought of calling someone else sister, and a small flower of hate bloomed in his heart at the Weasleys for putting such a young child through so much pain. “So, could you tell me exactly what happened in the meeting?”, he asked. He was still waiting for the truth after all these days.

“Firstly, I was downright pissed at all the people who voted for the motion, mostly the Weasleys, and I had also never believed Remus or Harry would have done something like this.”. When she mentioned the werewolf, a light blush overtook her features which Ron didn’t miss. _Huh, guess paying attention to someone other than Potter and Granger has made me notice stuff I’d have missed otherwise._

“So, Remus and Moody were the ones who initiated the motion. And everyone other than Sirius and I voted against, and Arthur abstained.”

“And may I know who all voted for the motion?”, he asked, the darkness within craving revenge.

“Why would you need those names, Ronald?”, Andromeda asked. Ron turned to her with a decidedly deadly smile which showed off some his white teeth. In the light of the headmaster’s room, for some reason, the teeth looked sharper than normal.

“Someday, I’m gonna find them, and hurt them, bad. Exactly like they hurt me.”, he said in the same cold voice that Albus had heard in the abandoned classroom 4 days ago.

“Ron, violence is never the answer.”, Albus said softly, not wanting another Voldemort. He had no doubt, that if Ron would actually go on with his revenge, and might just become a dark lord.

“Who said I’d resort to violence? You know, there exists pain worse than the cruciatus curse, right?”, he said with false cheer, and Albus immediately knew that this was going to be dangerous. But before he could speak again, Andromeda cut in. She had the slightly mad look Bellatrix had in her eyes while dueling.

“Headmaster, these people have put Ron through more pain than any 14 year old shall ever have to suffer. I believe he has the right for revenge”, she said in a voice much different from the one he had heard on the healer. She then turned to Ron.

“As long as you don’t kill someone, leave them permanently damaged, or drive them to insanity, I am perfectly fine with revenge.”, she said. After a short pause, she added in a whisper, “You would have made a good Black.”

This was not a complement to be taken with a grain of salt, as not many could be said to make a good Black. But seer blood ran among the Black women, and Andromeda had learnt to always trust her gut. She had seen the determination, and cunning in the boy’s eyes, and something told her that he would be great. He would surely make a good Black.

Nymphadora looked at him warily for a few seconds, before she conjured up a piece of parchment with the names and handed it to him. He knew Nymphadora was about to tell him not to spread the names, and he beat her to it.

“Don’t worry. No one will know of the names of the order members.”, he said without looking up from the parchment _. Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shaklebolt, Emmeline Vance, Dedalus Diggle, Sturgis Podmore, Mundungus Fletcher, Elphias Doge, and Aberforth Dumbledore._

As he read those names, they were burned into his mind from hatred, the darkness revolving around them, looking for revenge. _They will pay, and they will pay dearly!_ But then, he noticed the last name.

_Wait, Aberforth Dumbledore? Dumbledore has a brother!_

His head whipped around to face the headmaster, who had been reading the list over Ron’s shoulder, and had a pained expression on his face. _Some long, bad history._ Ron decided not to ask about it, as he had grown to like the old man, and didn’t want to hurt him.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Ted (his soon to be father?) talking. “So, I guess we have to leave now. Andy and I have some work in St. Mungos, and Dora too has to get to ministry. It’s been nice getting to know you, Ron, and you’re always welcome at our home. All you have to do is floo to ‘Tonks Manor.’”

“Father! Please don’t call me that!”, ‘Dora’ exclaimed while blushing from embarrassment. In return, her father simply chuckled.

And with that, the three men shook hands, and the Tonks family made their way to the floo. But just as Andromeda was about to throw the floo powder into the flames, a thought struck Ron’s mind out of nowhere.

“Professor, why isn’t healing taught at Hogwarts?”, he asked. He had never really thought about the subjects taught in Hogwarts, but now when he thought of it, he realized that there were really few of them taught. Like, where was healing, maybe social etiquette, flying was only taught in the first year, and where on earth was dueling?

Suddenly, the three adults in the room seemed to age several years in a second. Even Tonks got a worried look on her young face.

“Do you know why I became a healer Ron?”, Andromeda asked, and without waiting for an answer she continued. “In the war, magical Britain lost at least 35 percent of its population, and I saw so many people die right in front of my eyes. I lost countless patients, because their injuries were just so horrible, and the worst part, was that my own _sister_ was responsible for a lot of them.”

This time, it was Dumbledore who spoke. “After the war, Magical Britain had a huge reduction in its population. When Voldemort was a student here, there used to be around 70 children in each year. Now we have only 30.”

“There also used to be many other classes taught in Hogwarts, like dueling, healing, ghoul studies, muggle and magical sports, pureblood etiquette, magical music, and several types of divination. But after the war, there just weren’t any students left, and there were very few teachers applying. There were a lot of deaths, and after that a lot of families simply left the country. Which is why, we only teach so few subjects in Hogwarts.”

Ron knew of the casualties of the war, after all, he had lost his own uncles in the war, but he didn’t know that it was so high. He could almost imagine the number of children who would have walked the halls, and who he’d have shared a dorm with, had that snake faced bastard not come in.

_Fuck you Voldemort, may you rot in hell._

“Language, Ronald.”, Dumbledore scolded from besides him, causing Ron to sigh. “I said that aloud, didn’t I?”

“Yes, though I did notice, you also said the dark lord’s name aloud.”, Albus said with a bit of pride in his voice. Ron was surprised. _Damn, did I just do that?_

“Vo – vol - ldemort….Voldemort can go bugger himself!”, he said slowly, trying to say the name out aloud, eliciting chuckles form the others in the room.

“But professor, we all know there’s going to be another war, and soon. So isn’t it a good idea to start teaching subjects like healing and dueling? I mean, you never know when you might need them.”, he suggested.

“But the problem is, who’ll be teaching?”, Dumbledore asked. In reality, he knew very well what was coming, as he too wanted to reinstate those subjects, but he was very interested in knowing what Ron would say. Also, he thought it would help alleviate his inferiority complex.

“Well, healing could be taught by Andromeda and Teddy right here, and since all the teachers of Hogwarts have survived the last war, I’m pretty sure they are excellent duelers. So just split the load among all of you.”, he said. Well, even Albus hadn’t thought of it from that perspective, as he had still been looking for someone who would agree to teach.

“Not to mention, it would reduce the workload of the students a bit, which is always welcome. Or…you could just steal a time turner from the ministry or something”, he joked, though the others in the room didn’t know that it contained a bit of an inside joke for himself as well.

“Hmmmm…I will think of your suggestion, Ron.”, he responded, not getting the inside joke. “Are you willing to teach?”, he asked, turning to the couple.

Their daughter looked ecstatic at the thought of her parents teaching, as the couple looked at each other, and an entire conversation passed within just a look; a testament to how well they understood each other.

A second later, Ted Tonks turned to the headmaster with a huge smile. “Headmaster, it has been my dream for ages to teach at Hogwarts, though Andy won’t be able to teach here. However, she would like to attend the opening feast, if you will.”

Ron nearly jumped into the air in ecstasy. He had just done something, which might just have a huge impact on the war! _Take that, bitches! Who’s useless now, huh?_

Little did Ronald know, that he would soon become one of the most important pieces of the war, on par with Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, but we’re gonna come to that later.

With a few more words of parting, the married couple exited by floo, and Nymhadora was about to leave as well.

“Goodbye, professor, Ronald!”, she said. “Hey, Nymphadora! You’re an auror, right? Could you teach me fighting sometime?”, he requested his sister.

The metamorphagus slowly turned her head, and looked at him with a dangerous look. Her eyes were a scary red, and her hair was black with streaks of red. She looked pretty intimidating.

“Of course”, she started with an exaggerated voice. “Whenever you’re free, _Ronniekins_.”, she said, emphasizing the most embarrassing nickname Ron had ever heard, causing him to turn red.

Before he could make a witty retort, she had already walked into the green flames. “NEVER, EVER CALL ME NYMPHADORA!”, was her last shouted message, before she disappeared out of sight.

“Damn”, was the only response Ron could utter, as the headmaster burst into laughter just then, and Ron huffed and sat in the headmaster’s chair, though he too was amused.

Once the headmaster had stopped laughing, he said something which made Ron’s heart both flutter in excitement, and drop to his stomach in fear.

“Ron, seeing that you’re so excited to duel, would you like to have one?”, the headmaster asked cheerfully. It took Ron about 5 seconds to even process what the wizard had just said, and his mind process went something like this.

_Wait, is he saying something? – duel – headmaster of Hogwarts – I will duel Albus Dumbledore - ….. – BLOODY HELL!_

“O – of course, professor!”, he squeaked in excitement. “Alright, meet me in the great hall at 1!”, he said cheerfully before walking out of the door to god know where.

 _Oh no._ Ron knew he stood no chance against Albus Dumbledore, and he almost gave in his forfeit right then and there, before he remembered that he had changed. _No, the Ron who gave up was the old one! You will not give up! you do know what to do right?_

Ron smirked as he came up with a plan on the spot. _Well, guess it’s time to test my emotions powered self against a human being. Oh, and also lets get some extra practice in with the time turner._

Though he knew that he had no chance, the least he could do was give it his best, and impress the headmaster. This was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews are always welcome. This is my first fanfic, so I would really appreciate it if you could tell me where to improve my writing, and how.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ronald Weasley POV

He ran into the room of requirements, and quickly noted down the time on a piece of parchment, while simultaneously summoning the time turner. He would go back 4 hours, so he could get in 3 hours of practice, along with an hour and a half for food and rest. Oh, and did he forget to mention that he had started to workout at the burrow (he had read in a book that a good dueler also has a physically fit body.), which was why he also had to squeeze in 30 minutes of exercise.

Once everything was ready, he twisted the device. By now, the process wasn’t so nauseating, and he wasn’t left seeing stars when the travelled, but it was disorienting nonetheless. Once he landed, he drank a glass of water, before beginning his half an hour workout routine, comprising of pushups, sit ups, and a bit of jogging (for once, he was glad to have such a lanky frame as it made pushups 15 times easier).

After that, he practiced blasting jinxes, _finite, wingardium leviosa,_ building speed. He pointedly refused to channel his emotions, as he was saving that for the duel (though, even if he wanted to, he would have found it quite tough, as he was just too happy and excited right then). He planned to wreck the great hall today, and leave the next year’s first years with a broken opening feast.

He remembered to take short breaks in between his practice, and when he had an hour and a half left, he took a quick bath before sending back the time turner and heading to the kitchen.

The elves too were shocked at first at seeing a student at school during the summer, but their shock was soon replaced by glee as they bustled around, preparing a king’s meal for him.

“Master Wheezy wants food! We are cooking master the bestest lunch ever!”, Dobby screamed in joy while running around.

“Guys, there’s no need for so much food! A little bit is enough!”, Ron was shouting at them, though they were making him feel loved and cared for, a feeling that he had missed dearly. Oh, and he was also laughing his head off as he played with some elven children, as he was thoroughly enjoying their antics.

Ron wondered why Granger had been so fixated on freeing house elves, when they seemed perfectly content like how they were. Accepted, there were those like Dobby, and even Ron was happy to free them, but he felt that instead of _forcing_ all of them to be free, she should ask them their opinion, and then allow it to be their individual choice of whether they wanted to be free or not.

As he was eating, his mind constantly went back to how Harry and Hermione had betrayed him, and his heart filled with that familiar anger and pain, but this time he didn’t try to subdue it. Everything was going according to plan.

He quickly escaped from the kitchens, after thanking the elves with all his heart, as he didn’t want any of his little friends to get hurt due to his rampant magic. He nearly ran to the Gryffindor common room, and stormed into his dorm, and opened his drawer where he had kept pictures of his family, Harry, and Hermione.

As he watched the pictures laid down on his bed, he could feel his heart constricting painfully. His long, pale fingers traced the faces of Harry, Hermione, his parents, and his siblings, and all he wanted to do was to hurt them.

His blood began to boil in his veins, and his eyes slowly turned a cold, unforgiving …. inhuman blue. Lost in his raging storm of emotions, he didn’t notice as the pillow behind him went up in flames. As he sat on his bed, aiming to concentrate and amplify the pain, the images slowly lifted into the air of their own accord.

The process was quite…weird. It was like vomiting on purpose; trying to bring back something vile and repulsive out on your free will. It was time consuming, and difficult, but he managed to do it at last.

He didn’t know how he knew it…he just did. It felt like a container had reached its limit, and couldn’t be filled anymore. Checking his watch, he saw that the duel was in 10 minutes. He packed the pictures back into the drawer, and after sending one last pained and hateful look towards them, before he stomped out of his dorm and the common room.

As he walked over to the great hall, he bit the inside of his cheek and concentrated on subduing his anger, though he kept it hidden just beneath the surface. He wanted to release the pent-up anger at his command, but it wouldn’t do for his opponent to see that something was wrong.

When he reached the hall, he had managed to mostly shove his emotions behind a curtain, and fixed his face into an impassive one, but he was unable to change his eyes. They were still the same, inhuman blue.

When he entered the great hall, the first thing he noticed that the table had been vanished and at the center of the great hall was cleared for the duel. The second thing he noticed was that all the teachers were present, waiting for the show to begin. _Oh, I’ll give you the best show of your life._

On the other end of the hall, stood Albus Dumbledore, twirling his wand in a relaxed manner, not even paying attention to Ron having entered. Though the wizard was just thinking about how best to test Ron, the red head mistook it for dismissal, something which he couldn’t deal with as it brought back memories of the horrible night. He felt his temper flare, and just barely stopped his uncontrolled magic from bursting out. _I’ll teach you not to dismiss me! You will learn to fear even my name!_

“Oh, so you’re here, Ronald.”, he said as a way of greeting. “Yes, I am, headmaster. I see you’ve brought along an audience. Be careful, your reputation might be on the stake here.”, he said, mocking the man.

Everybody raised their eyebrows at the taunt. This was going to be interesting. But only the headmaster noticed the change in Ron’s eye color. Normally, he would have refrained from dueling under such circumstances, but he did want to test his protégé. Also, he was never one to back away from a challenge.

“So, shall we begin? Filius, when you say.”, he said. Flitwick was refereeing the duel, but the headmaster had asked him not to stop the duel even if it got dangerous.

“Everything short of the unforgivables and fiendfyre is permitted.”, he called. “3…2…1… BEGIN!”

Ron was the first to throw a curse, and he started with an emotionless reductor, which the headmaster blocked easily. He was now sweating due to the effort it took to hold in his emotions. This time, Albus Dumbledore threw a chain of pretty slow stunners which Ron easily dodged.

This charade went on for a minute with the curses thrown by both sides getting progressively faster, and the other side always dodging the other’s offences. Ron was using a variety of curse and spells, while the headmaster was still only using stunners, disarmers, and other harmless stuff. He was going easy on the child.

Ron was indeed simply playing along, and still reining in his emotions. He knew that the headmaster was holding back, and even saw Snape _yawning_ out of the corner of his eye. _I’ll show you to never underestimate me!_ Out of nowhere, a stunner came flying at him, and he just dodged it.

Ron smirked at the old man, who was wondering if the red head wasn’t so special after all. _NOW!_ , Ron thought viciously, while releasing all of his emotions.

The great hall was going to be wrecked, badly.

Immediately, a torrent of hate, anger, pain and uncontrolled magic washed over him, and the magic flicked away two stunners which were heading his way. The teachers’ eyes widened in shock at the display of power, but before they could even utter a single world, Ron had started his true attack.

He fired of string after string of blasting curses, stunners, and cutting jinxes, which Albus Dumbledore just managed to block. One of the stunners hit with such force, that his shield was cleaved in two, and Albus was forced to dodge a curse by inches for the first time. _Merlin, now we’re talking. Guess I’ll have to up my game._

The headmaster managed to escape his first barrage, and now flung three mobile shields towards Ron. He managed to dodge the first one, but the second one had to be blocked, and the third one hit his leg, bringing him to one knee.

Ron’s anger was at an all-time high now, and with one huge sweep of his wand, he threw a couple of blasting hexes at the ground, and transfigured the generated debris into much sharper pieces of rock, which he sent flying to the headmaster from all directions.

 _DIE!_ , he bellowed mentally. He was pretty sure that the headmaster would block this attack, and so he had already fired a _‘finite’_ and a _‘confringo’_ towards the wizard which would reach him before the projectiles.

Albus Dumbledore did block it with a shield, but the shield was destroyed by the anti-magic spell, allowing the others to reach him. Though Albus hadn’t planned on using it, he had to wandlessly banish the rocks and deflect the blasting curse, which hit the east wall, causing the hall to shake at its foundations. _Wow, he really is powerful, and creative_

Ron nearly stopped fighting at the immense display of power from the headmaster, until his anger and frustration caught up with him. He didn’t know how it happened, but without his consent, he threw three blasting hexes towards the audience and the roof of the hall. _Hey! That’s clearly foul play!_ A part of his mind screamed at him, but the only thing on his mind was his anger, pain, and a wish to hurt Albus Dumbledore.

It was downright terrifying.

Albus’s eyes widened at the foul play, and he instinctively blocked the curses heading towards the audience with conjured mobile shields and deflected the one going to the roof, into the ground near Ronald. Though a normal person would have flinched back from the incoming blasting curse, Albus _saw_ a black and blue tentacle appear from the ground beneath Ronald’s feet and deflect it right towards the headmaster. This time, he hit it towards the other wall, and he just hoped that the hall could be repaired.

_What in Merlin’s name was that!_

With a deafening roar, Ron screamed _‘INCENDIO MAXIMA!’_ while slashing his wand in a large arc which looked like a sword aiming a cut at the headmaster. He didn’t know why he had said the words, because as far as he knew, there was no spell with that incantation. But at the same time as he cast it, in a small part of his mind, the answer clicked. _‘maxima’_ was generally added to a spell to increase its power a lot, like _lumos maxima_ or _bombarda maxima_ all of which were extra powered versions of their original spells.

Albus Dumbledore’s jaw nearly dropped to the ground in shock as a torrent of flame came pouring out of Ronald’s wand, heading right towards him. _Incendio Maxima_ was a less known, primitive version of Fiendfyre. It was nowhere near as destructive as its completely dark counterpart, and was much easier to control, but exhausting nonetheless.

Albus had no idea where Ronald had learnt this spell, but he had to end this duel quickly. His test had gone too far. As the firestorm made its way towards him, he felt for all the water and liquid down in the kitchens. What many people didn’t know, was that he was a master of elemental water magic, and one of the advantages of being one was it made it much simpler to deal with fiendfyre.

He pulled up the water through the floor of the hall, and formed it into a wall to block the flames. The two forces clashed in an epic explosion of steam and sound. In a second, the older wizard transformed the wall into a sphere which encompassed the fire, and the two extinguished each other, leaving the entire battlefield shrouded in a cover of steam. _Wait, where’s Gell – Ronald?_

He had almost referred to his student as Gellert in his mind, and that was a testament to his power and skill. He still remembered how Gellert used to use the terrain very effectively, and the extraordinary results their famous duel had produced. This duel reminded him of that a lot.

Out of nowhere, electric blue wires wrapped around his legs, and he nearly screamed in pain. It was like his legs were being wrapped in threads of fire, and he couldn’t do anything to free himself from them.

Wandlessly, he dispelled the smoke, and hit the chains on one leg with a small burst of fiendfyre to free himself. He had never seen any spell yield such results, and so he had no doubt that it was formed from Ronald’s accidental magic, or some very dark magic.

But as soon as the smoke was dispelled, his eyes met a pair of terrifying blue ones, causing his blood to freeze, and a red blasting curse came flying towards him. Had it not been for his reflexes from years of war, he might have died then and there, but he managed to meet the incoming spell head on with an _‘expelliarmus!’_

The two beams of light met in a spectacular display of color, and Albus could feel himself being overpowered. Though his first instinct was to try and overpower his opponent, he then decided to do something different, and play Ronald’s own game of creative warfare. As the exploding hex slowly made its way towards Albus, and Ronald had all his attention focused on the stream of light, albus conjured up the water from the kitchens once more, and formed a wall of it right behind Ronald, before dropping the entire load of it right on top of his student.

All the teachers’ eyes widened when Ron didn’t even pay attention to the fact that he had just been drenched by at least a ton of water. If anything, it only seemed to make him angrier, and the blasting hex was making its way to Albus even faster.

 _Oh, god._ In a split-second decision, the headmaster decided to resort to overpowering the young wizard before him. Unicorn core with Ronald and the elder wand in the hands of Dumbledore clashed, and after a thirty second standoff, with one last cry, Albus managed to finally overpower the wizard before him. Though Ronald was immensely powerful, there was almost nothing that could overpower the Elder Wand. _Imagine the power Ronald could have if he possessed the elder wand._ Though the thought was frightening, Albus Dumbledore couldn’t help but imagine the beauty of such a sight.

The red light hit Ronald’s right hand, ripping the wand from his grasp, causing it to end up in Albus’s left one. The two wizards started at each other for a second, before Ronald’s eyes flashed that same terrible, inhuman blue. Four tendrils shot out of his magical core, heading straight for Albus, and he managed to cut them off just in time.

Ron blinked his eyes to shake off the dizzy feeling. _What just happened?_ He had been dueling with Dumbledore, when suddenly, his emotions seemed to take over, and then everything he saw seemed to be through a toxic blue screen. He had wanted to stop when his blasting curse had nearly shattered the wall, but his body seemed to have a mind of its own. No matter how many times he told himself to stop, his wand hand and his legs just wouldn’t listen to him.

And now that he had been disarmed, he was finally coming back to himself. His eyes morphed back into their usual color, and once the magical influx and adrenaline had run off, he was left feeling _really_ tired.

_I just want to go to sleep._

He turned to the headmaster. “That was a very exciting duel, headmas…”, but he never completed the sentence, as he was falling to the ground, his nose bleeding hot blood. He could hear screams from somewhere, but he couldn’t hear them as his world was turning black.

He didn’t feel himself hitting the ground.

************

Severus Snape POV

He was the first to come to his senses, and had run forward to catch Ronald just in time. He had spent over a year as a spy, and had seen the dark lord’s torture methods. One of them included forcing the victim to completely deplete his magical core, and Ronald looked like he had suffered from just that.

“ALBUS! HELP! HIS MAGICAL CORE HAS BEEN DEPLETED, AND HE MIGHT HAVE SOME INTERNAL BLEEDING!”, he yelled while simultaneously levitating the child’s body and sending it to the hospital wing. Albus had called Fawkes and asked the phoenix to take her to the hospital wing, where she was no doubt preparing potions and a place for helping the child.

With some quick wand work, Albus had been able to stifle the internal bleeding, but the boy needed to be given medical attention as soon as possible.

As the teachers ran with the deathly still body of the red head, Severus knew that all of them had just one thought on their mind, and he too was thinking back to it.

Severus had always thought that Ronald was a mediocre student, and the only skill he had seen the child possess was a strategic mind. But in just one day, he had seen that Ronald possessed a lot of hidden skills. After being separated from his family and friends, it was like he had been reborn. Severus could almost _feel_ the angry magic whipping around him whenever his family, Potter, or Granger were mentioned, and the way the cutlery had been destroyed at the parting feast was a truly impressive display of power.

When he had appeared in the great hall this morning and told them of how he hated his family, Severus knew that he had some sort of plan. When he met Albus’s eyes, his friend had sent him a stream of memories, and Severus had nearly fallen off his chair at how far _Ronald Weasley_ , the boy he had insulted countless times in class, had planned. He had made up a convincing lie for his ‘family and friends’, had convinced and manipulated Albus, had prepared emancipation files, was planning a resorting, and had also already found a pair of guardians. Severus wondered why he had ended up with the hot headed Gryffindors, and where his talent was for all his years, a question he asked through legilimency to Albus.

In response, he had gotten a sad look, and another stream of thoughts. _He has been in the shadows of his brothers and his friends his entire life, and so he developed a massive inferiority complex. He used to think that if everything he did had already been done by his brothers, what was the use of even trying?_

_But now that all he knew has been ripped apart, he has been filled with a desire for vengeance, and his creative and strategic mind has come forth._

_I’m guilty to say, that even we did nothing to help him. He defeated a full-grown mountain troll with an ingenious use of a levitation charm while he was 11, and all we did was give them 5 points each. What harry had done was brave, but incredibly stupid. Ronald was the one who held his head on his shoulders at the time._

When he thought about it, it was true. In a sense, he had been continuously ignored at both home and at school.

And then, about an hour before lunch, Fawkes had come to his office, where he had been brewing a potion, with a message.

_Come to the great hall at 12:30. I have asked Ronald for a duel, in the great hall to test him._

_Oh, great. More waste of my time_ , he had thought at first. Little did he know that this would turn out to be the most impressive duel he had witnessed in a long time.

Before the duel, the two had had another mental conversation. _The tonkses have accepted him as their family and have taken a liking to him. Also, he has managed to convince Teddy Tonks to teach healing at Hogwarts, and convince me to start a dueling class. I plan to announce them as an elective subject at the opening feast._

Severus’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. In one day, this boy might have just made an important contribution to the war. This would no doubt improve the dueling skills of the students, and the extra healers could just save a lot of lives.

And then arrived the red head.

The moment he entered, Severus knew that something was definitely wrong. His expressions seemed to be forced, and his eyes……that was not his normal eye color at all. He had openly taunted the headmaster, and then the duel had started.

Merlin help us.

The start of the duel was just as Severus had expected, utterly boring. The pair were simply firing weak and slow stunners at each other, and they were dodging or blocking every single one of them.

Then, the first weird thing had happened. Ronald had forgotten to dodge a spell, and instead of it hitting him in the chest and throwing him to the wall, he had wandlessly deflected it like it was nothing.

At first Severus had been skeptical as to whether it had really happened, or if he had just conjured a shield at the last second, but 15 seconds later, he had no doubt that it had really happened.

He could almost hear the boy give out a war yell in his mind, and all of them felt the magic surging from him. This time, he wandlessly deflected two stunners, and before he could even blink, Ronald released an impressive string of blasting curses, cutting hexes, and miscellaneous jinxes which went way too fast for a 14-year-old. One of the stunners had straight up _melted_ a shield, and Albus was forced to dodge for the first time.

Then he had displayed his creative genius by firing blasting hexes on the floor to generate countless pieces of debris, which he sharpened with _one_ wave of his wand, something which was 5th year magic, and threw them towards the headmaster with a levitation charm.

Without missing a beat, he fired a _finite_ and a blasting hex at the teacher, and he just managed to deflect the blasting hex, which hit the wall. Severus could feel the ground shake upon impact, and was shocked by the amount of power one child could generate. This was by no means normal.

But what happened next, was what truly shocked him. Ron paused for a millisecond at Albus’s display of his mastery over magic, before out of the blue, he fired three blasting hexes towards him and the roof.

Severus’s eyes widened in fear, and without Albus, he would have probably died. He defused the two curses coming his way, and deflected the one which was heading towards the ceiling at Ronald, who once again wandlessly deflected it towards the wall, shaking the ground once more. At this rate, the great hall was going to be destroyed.

Once more, Ronald managed to make the teachers’ jaws drop to the ground, as with a deafening roar, he yelled _‘incendio maxima!’_ ¸which though wasn’t a dark spell, might as well have been because it was basically a lighter version of fiendfyre.

Albus was forced to summon a wall of water to douse the flames, and then the two wizards’ wands met, and Ronald actually managed to hold himself up against Dumbledore for 30 seconds. Even after he was doused in ice cold water, he shrugged it off like it was _nothing_.

At last, Albus disarmed him, after which Ron congratulated the headmaster before falling to the ground with his nose bleeding and a severely exhausted magical core.

Severus just didn’t know what to think, but all the teachers were certain about one thing as they took him to the hospital wing. The child was cunning, had been smart enough to hide his talent for years, was almost a match for Dumbledore, and was filled with anger, pain, and bitterness.

Perfect ingredients for another Voldemort.

The moment their entourage entered the infirmary, Poppy took matters into their own hand. In the blink of an eye, Ronald was on a bed, with a needle in his arm supplying medicine. The healer ran a whole bunch of diagnostic tests, after which she turned to the headmaster with a grim look.

“He’ll have to stay here for at least 4 days. His magical core has been severely drained and has a bit of internal bleeding as well.” She gulped before continuing. “It also seems that he hasn’t been sleeping well, and also has been eating much less than usual. Looks like he’s been regularly straining his core and body to the limit.”

The teachers conjured up a set of chairs, and sat down. Albus had his head in his hands, suddenly looking his actual age from worry. It appeared that he had grown quite attached to the child.

“Nightmares.”, he whispered, and the others looked at him curiously. “The Weasleys shifted to the order HQ today, and told Ronald to stay with his aunt Muriel, something which he refused to do. He left them a letter and flooed to my office in the middle of the night.”

“Today morning, the Weasleys sent me and the other order members a copy of the letter, and asked me to find their ‘son’”, he said with contempt, something he had never heard his friend use.

“But Ronald told me that he had no interest in going back to the family which threw him away like yesterday’s newspaper. In the letter, it was written that two of his worst nightmares; his family abandoning him, and his friends deserting him, had come true. So, no doubt, he wouldn’t be able to sleep or eat properly. And he told me that he has been training to become better, but I never thought that he would go so far.”

There was silence for a few minutes in which the only sound was the charm on Ronald which was measuring his heart beat, until Poppy exploded on Albus.

“How could you, Albus!”, she yelled. “You knew that he had gone through all this, you knew he was training, and yet, you went on to have a duel which wrecked the great hall? Not to mention, even I saw that there was something wrong with him, and yet, you didn’t stop when the match reached a dangerous level of magic!”

“I’m sorry, Poppy. I was foolish. I wanted to test his skill out, as I saw that he had a lot of untapped potential, and I got carried away.” At the defeated look on the man’s face, poppy’s anger withered away.

“Don’t do anything stupid again.”, she scolded sternly, though her voice had lost the anger.

Everyone was silent for a few moments, the only sound being Poppy bustling around, tending to Ron, and the breaths of the teachers, until Minerva broke the silence. “Albus…how did he get so powerful? It’s not possible that he learned all this in just 10 days!”

Both Albus and Filius had their typical thinking looks on in a second, no doubt theorizing about what could have happened, and Albus came up with an answer first. “I do have a theory.”, he said and continues at the curious looks from the others.

“I believe, Ronald’s magic depends abnormally heavily on his emotions. Think back to the troll incident in first year, Filius. Ron wasn’t able to even move the feather during the class where you taught the levitation charm, and yet, he was able to expertly levitate and maneuver a 60 pound club, less than 10 hours later, and that too with a severely damaged wand that did not recognize him as its owner.”

“I believe that was because he felt guilt, and also anger at the troll for trying to attack an innocent. He unknowingly channeled that anger to power his magic, leading to that wonderful bit of magic, which we unfortunately did not even recognize. Also, remember the chessboard. The pieces were made to seriously harm, or even kill an intruder, and yet, Ronald managed to survive with nothing more than a minor concussion, which shows some truly impressive magic.”

This time, it was Filius who spoke up. “And so, after he was abandoned by everyone he cared for, his anger and pain came to the surface, allowing his magic to become exponentially powerful, as displayed by the accidental magic in the great hall at the leaving feast.”

“And due to his continual training, he was able to sustain those emotions.”, completed Severus. “But yet, the amount of power he showed today was nowhere near the amount he used to get the troll! There must be something else.”, Minerva argued.

“Yes, I know that, Minerva, but the answer to that can only be given by Ronald himself.”, Albus sighed while removing something from his robes, which Severus recognized as a burnt, disfigured wand.

“Is that…. Ronald’s wand?”, asked Pomona, not knowing how it could have happened. “Yes”, Albus sighed once more, though he was looking at the child and the wand with an expression of awe and amazement.

“Due to the amount of power he channeled through his wand, it was destroyed in my hands a few seconds after I disarmed him. I believe it is also because this wand was no longer compatible with Ronald’s personality.”, he explained.

Though the potions master had an expressionless mask on, he too was awed and felt pity for the boy before him as he imagined how much pain he must have gone through to have lost his wand’s allegiance.

He reminded him too much of himself, and how he too had had to buy a new wand when he became a spy. The only difference being, that Ronald had been betrayed by those he loved, while he had been the one to betray the one he loved.

 _I always told Albus that one day, Potter would do something with permanent repercussions_ , he thought as he looked at the old man. Without a word, he knew that the headmaster too was thinking about what Lupin, the Order, the Weasleys, Potter, and Granger had done to one person.

Though during the duel, he had looked very similar to the dark lord when he was angry, now he looked exactly like what he was: a child. And those _monsters_ had pretty much tortured a child, which was a heinous crime.

Silence reined for another few minutes in which everyone mulled over what had transpired in less than 12 hours, until Albus broke the silence with his announcement. “Oh, and I also have to make an announcement. Today morning, Ronald managed to convince me to reinstate dueling classes in Hogwarts.”

The reaction was immediate, and it was positive from almost everyone (almost meaning that the healer had put her head in her hands in exasperation) The most positive reaction was understandably from Filius, who had been a professional dueler in his youth.

“That is a wonderful idea! Thank you, Albus, Ronald! But the question is, who shall be teaching?”, he asked with a huge smile, though towards the end, his expression became a bit solemn.

“Oh, he gave me the wonderful idea of all of us taking turns to teach the children, something which I’m sure everyone will enjoy.”

Filius’s grin could have blinded anyone, and even Severus and Minerva were forced to smile. They had missed dueling for nothing more than competition. Not to mention, when Ronald got sorted into his house, he would no doubt improve his house’s name.

“Please, Albus, spare me, the students already come to the hospital wing too much for their and my good.” Poppy moaned, and Albus grinned at her once again.

“Oh, and did I forget to mention, that he also managed to convince me, and find a person to teach healing as a subject?”, he said while smiling cheekily. At once, her exasperated expression turned to an elated one, with Pomona leaning forward in her chair in anticipation. No matter how much Poppy scolded children when they tried to escape early from her care, she did really love them.

“Really! And who did he convince to teach?”, she asked excitedly. “Do you remember your old friend, Teddy Tonks? Oh, and Andromeda Tonks might also come in occasionally.”

This time, it was Pomona and Poppy who were beaming, as the Hufflepuff prefect had been both their favourite students.

Severus looked at the unconscious form of the boy, and once more wondered where his planning mind had been all these years, and why Severus, despite being a spy, had not noticed it. Silently, he made a promise in his mind to help the child when he got sorted into Slytherin, as his time there would no doubt be full of hardship. Slytherin would be his ultimate test.

************

Ronald Weasley POV

He had woken up 2 hours after the duel, but had fallen asleep after only 3 minutes. Dumbledore, Teddy, Andromeda, and Nymphadora had come and visited him, and he exceptionally enjoyed teasing his ‘sister’ about her crush on Remus, and bragging about the duel.

When Dumbledore had asked him how he had done it, he had told him all that he had done in the Gryffindor common room.

_“Ronald, tell me, how did you perform such powerful magic in our duel?”, he had asked on his 2nd night in bed. He thought about it for a few seconds, but then decided to tell him about only his emotions and what had happened in the Gryffindor dorms._

_“Well, I kinda realized that the stronger my emotions were, the more powerful my magic was. That was the reason why my spells became so much more powerful in general after I was abandoned. So, when you told me about the duel, I first went and practiced a bit, after which I ate in the kitchens, and then I went to the Gryffindor dorms where I sleep.”_

_“Over there, in the drawer beside my bed, I used to keep pictures of my …. ex - friends and family. So, I just stared at them for 15 minutes, and …. dunno, tried to er – channel my anger, I guess? I mean, it felt like trying to vomit on purpose, bringing up unpleasant memories and feelings, but the angrier I got, the more powerful my magic became, so it was worth it.”_

_“After about an hour of doing so, a pillow behind me caught on fire, and I knew that I was ready. And so, I went down to the hall, and you know, everything happened.”_

_Dumbledore was just staring at him with a thoughtful expression, as if he was a puzzle waiting to be solved, and it was quite unnerving. “And what about those black tendrils which attacked me?”, he asked. “were those a result of dark magic?”_

_Ron fixed an aghast look onto his face before replying. “No, professor! In fact, even I have no idea what they were.”_

_Albus stared at him for a few moments, as if he could decipher that he was lying, simply by reading the patterns his freckles made, before nodded, with a small smile on his face. Suddenly, Ron remembered something._

_“Sir, where’s my wand, and what happened to the damage caused to the great hall?”, he asked. The wizard sighed, and drew out a burnt, broken, misshaped lump of charred wood. It took a few seconds for Ron to realize that it was his wand._

_He tenderly took it into his hands, examining it with tears pricking his eyes. He knew that he had planned to buy a new wand, but he had never planned to get rid of his old one in such a horrible way. He had wanted to keep it as a spare, a memoir of all that he had lost. Seeing his faithful unicorn hair wand, destroyed like this, was almost like a symbol of how much he had changed, and suddenly, his mind was bombarded with images of his childhood at the burrow, and the four years he had spent with Harry and Hermione._

_Dumbledore seemed to understand the emotional turmoil he was in, and had put a warm comforting hand his back. At that simple action, Ron had broken down like a girl, and spent 5 minutes crying into the headmaster’s chest._

_(Ron never noticed Dumbledore’s shocked expression when Ron had buried his face in his chest, or how he had tentatively held him close. Nor did he notice madam Pomfrey coming in, take on look at the scene, and go away with a soft smile on her face)_

_Once his tears had run dry, he finally pulled away from the wizened wizard, and wiped his eyes dry. ‘That was stupid! What’s done is done, and you will not let your past haunt you!’, he scolded himself._

_“I’m sorry for ruining your robes, headmaster.”, he apologized with his face burning in embarrassment. “Don’t worry, Ronald. it’s nothing. Oh, and I was able to repair the damage, with only a few cracks in the brick left behind.”, the headmaster said in a much softer voice than usual. “And please, never try that again.”, he had added before he had abruptly gotten up and left, and Ron knew that he was referring to the emotions trick._

_(Ron obviously didn’t know that the scene reminded the wizard of a time, long, long, back, when his siblings had come and thrown themselves at him after he had come back from his first year at Hogwarts. He needed to go and have a drink in his office to go and get his mind in order.)_

_The next day, the headmaster had come in and give him some device which would basically exchange the horrible infirmary food for a hot steamy meal that the elves had cooked, and though Ron had no idea how it worked, he was very grateful to the man for it._

_(neither did he know, that the elves had received special orders from the headmaster to give Ron a bit more and bit tastier food than usual)_

Currently, Ron was having his last day in the hospital wing, waiting for the clock to strike 10 so that he could finally have freedom from his whitewashed prison. But even then, he couldn’t resist having some fun with the nurse, by repeating the mantra of “Please release me from this prison.”, for the past 30 minutes, until she had hit him with a silencer, which Ron was still trying to remove after 10 minutes.

At long last, his imprisonment was over, and he nearly ran out screaming from the hospital wing, hoping he would never have to see the place again. He had 2 hours until the headmaster took him to get a new wand (and for him to open a Gringotts account, though the older wizard didn’t know that), and he decided to use that time for working out.

He wasn’t in too bad shape, as despite the nurse’s warnings of putting him in a body bind should he strain himself, he had squeezed in a few hours of exercise in the wee hours of the morning, after which he slept till lunch.

An hour of exercising later, he was sweating, had a cramp in his foot, was smelly, but was satisfied. He took a long bath, after which he asked the room for the best-looking clothes of his size that it could find, and it delivered a plain blue shirt, and a pair of jeans. Though they were a bit dusty, and had a few cobwebs, with a couple of scourgify’s, they were perfect.

Wearing them, he stood in front of a mirror, and his eyes widened at the number of changes in his body. His jaw was now hard and defined, and though he wasn’t the most muscular person on earth, he wasn’t exactly a beanpole, as his body was starting to fill up with lean muscles. He was taller, his hair was longer, and he also noticed that he had a tiny scar on his left cheek where a cutting curse had hit him during dueling practice, and he hadn’t bothered to heal himself.

His shirt was also helping his look, as it allowed you to see his muscles underneath the cotton, and overall, he thought he didn’t look bad. Like he was a totally new person, which, in a sense, he was.

At 12, he met up with the headmaster in his office, where they had a few snacks, before getting ready to travel to Diagon alley to get him a new wand (he really missed the feeling of the warm wood in his hands)

“Ready?”, he asked as his phoenix came and at down on his shoulder. “Yup”, came Ron’s cheerful reply. The headmaster extended his hand, inviting Ron to take it, but he just looked at it in confusion.

“But sir, you can’t apparate within Hogwarts”, he said. The only reason he knew that was because of four years of Hermione drilling it into his head.

The headmaster chuckled in response to his query. “Have you ever travelled by phoenix fire?”, he asked, and Ron shook his head since he had no idea what phoenix fire even was, but it sure did sound cool.

“Don’t worry. Just take my hand, and Fawkes shall take us to diagon alley in an instant.”, he said, and Ron agreed. The red and gold magical bird flew into the air with a trill, after which it landed with one foot on each of their shoulders.

Ron nearly screamed in shock and fear as his field of vision was suddenly engulfed by flames, but to his surprise, they weren’t painful in the least. Instead, they made him feel warm and protected, like he was being hugged.

But as soon as the pleasant sensation had come, it had disappeared, and Ron found himself in the center of Diagon alley, and people were looking at them with looks of awe written all over their faces. The extra attention made him excited, but nervous at the same time.

Surprisingly, this mode of magical transport did not make him feel nauseated in the least, something with which he’d always had a problem with. He made a mental note to try and befriend a phoenix sometime in the future.

As they walked, whispers and curious eyes followed them everywhere, though some of them directed towards Dumbledore were insulting, something which angered Ron.

“Hey, isn’t that Albus Dumbledore!”

“The liar! How would you – know – who come back from the dead?”

“And hey, who’s that Weasley boy?”

Ron felt a familiar sense of anger brew in his gut at being called ‘that Weasley boy.’, and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from lashing out.

“Professor”, he started. “Could I go to Gringotts for some personal matters?”, he asked. He really didn’t want to have to explain about the money. Though he doubted that the man would be angry at him for just using potential resources, he didn’t want to risk it, and he also wanted to keep the room a secret, just because.

Dumbledore looked at him curiously for a moment before agreeing. “Thank you, sir”, he said, before walking into Gringotts. The size and regality of the place never ceased to impress him, and he soon found himself in front of one of the goblins.

“And what may I do for you? But I guess the more important question is, why are you here all alone?”, he asked condescendingly, with a smile which unnerved him.

“Good afternoon to you too, Mr.…. Sliverknuckle.”, he said drily, reading the name off his name tag. The goblin’s eyebrows raised in surprise at being addressed respectfully by a wizard.

“I would like to open an account in my name; Ronald Tonks.”, he said while simultaneously taking out the expanded pouch from his pocket. (after dressing up, he had fetched it from the Gryffindor dorm. i.e., standing with one foot past the fat lady, and yelling _‘ACCIO MAGIC POUCH!’_ so loud that it woke up a few paintings on the other end of the hall)

“For some reason, I can’t help but think that Tonks is not your last name.”, the goblin observed. This customer was quite interesting, different from the others.

“And you’re right as well, though if you want to talk about that, I’d prefer to do so in privacy.”, he replied. “Fine, follow me.”, the goblin said, getting up from his seat.

He led the red head to and office with a table and two chairs, along with 3 drawers full of files. Sitting down, he asked, “Now, could you tell me the truth, as we need it to create an account.”

And so, Ron told the goblin about everything, excluding the order but including the emancipation, as he had read that Gringotts needed a copy of the files as well.

At the end of his narration, Silverknuckle was smiling, baring all his sharp teeth, and he looked actually excited, though why, Ron couldn’t fathom. He wasn’t really depositing too much money.

“You are the most interesting customer I’ve had in quite some time, Mr. – “

“Call me Ron.”

Once again, the goblin looked surprised at this, and Ron didn’t understand why, though he didn’t really know Goblins well at all, since he hadn’t interacted with them even once in the past.

“– Ron. You will be able to open an account under the name of Ronald Tonks, as you will be getting emancipated pretty soon. All you need to do is pay a fee of 5 galleons, and sign this sheet in blood.”, he said while making a paper and a quill appear out of nowhere with a snap of his fingers. For some reason, ‘sign in blood’ didn’t really sound good.

Ron took the quill and signed his name at the bottom of the sheet with the quill, but as he was on the third letter of his name, a sharp stinging feeling bloomed at the back of his right hand, and he instinctively pulled back to look at his hand.

It seemed that by ‘sign in blood’, the goblin meant literally signing in one’s blood. The goblin didn’t even look apologetic, and after sending a small glare towards him, Ron continued to write while ignoring the pain.

Once it was done, Silverknuckle sent to papers away with a flick of his wrist. “Now…Ron, what will you be depositing in your vault?”, he asked, wondering what money a Weasley would have. Their own vault had only 50 galleons in total.

Ron smirked, and emptied out the purse on the table, enjoying the look of shock on the goblin’s face. He quickly counted the money, and turned to him with an incredulous expression as if to ask ‘where did you get it from?’, before his expression hardened.

It took Ron a second to realize why his expression had hardened, and quickly cleared away the doubts. “Oh, if you’re wondering where I got it from, I have my sources, and it doesn’t include stealing.”, causing the goblin’s expression to soften, if you could call it that.

‘Goblins despise thievery”, was one of the few things he knew about the race, and only because the poem at the entrance made it painfully clear what all painful things would happen to those who even tried to steal from them.

“Alright then, Ron”, he said while sending the coins away with another flick of his wrist (Ron still had 20 galleons left in the pouch for the wand). He pulled out another pouch from a drawer and handed it to Ron, who took it curiously.

“This pouch is connected to your vault and we give it to all owners of vaults containing over 400 galleons. You can access your vault at any time with this pouch”, he explained. “Any other enquiries?”

“Er – no.”, Ron said. “Thank you for your help.”, he said again while extending his hand for a shake, while the goblin made to bow. The resulting mess was quite awkward, and Ron couldn’t help the curiosity that gripped his heart at his behaviour.

“Er – “, he muttered uncomfortably as the Goblin looked at his hand like it was a beast which would attack him should he come too close. After 10 seconds of scrutiny, he finally shook his hand with the goblin’s gnarly one. It looked like Silverknuckle had never really shook hands with anyone before.

“Thanks again.”, he said. The goblin looked at him with a curious expression. “It’s been nice doing business with you, Ron. You’re one very curious wizard.”

Finally, unable to maintain his curiosity, he burst open. “Hey, silverknuckle, why do you find me so interesting?”

The goblin sighed before answering. “Firstly, your circumstances of arrival were pretty unique, and second, you are the only wizard I have ever met who has treated our race as an equal. Most wizards would have sneered at us, but you not only addressed me by my name, but also offered a handshake.”

Ron thought about it for a few moments. From the few stories bill had told him about Goblins, he had been taught that all goblins were little shits, but then Bill had turned out to be a little shit, and so the point was null.

Ron was amazed at the fact that once, he too would have treated goblins with contempt, just because they were goblins, something which was pretty much blood supremacy against goblins. But now, after leaving his family, his outlook on the world had changed so drastically.

“Well, then wizards are a bunch of little shits!”, he exclaimed, causing silverknuckle’s eyes to widen in surprise. He had expected the child to say that goblins deserved to be discriminated against.

“Well, without you guys, our economy wouldn’t even function, so you do deserve to be treated as equals!”

“Thank you, Ron, but I’m afraid the world doesn’t share the same views as you”, he replied, and the moment these words came out of his lips, Ron’s eyes flashed a dangerous blue, as if promising that one day, the world would listen to this teenager before him, and the sight truly unnerved him.

“Ron, I also believe that there’s someone waiting outside for you.”, he said, drawing Ron out of his angry thoughts. “Oh, ok. And thank you for your help once again, mate!”, he said as he ran out of the door, leaving a bewildered, yet touched goblin, at the friendly word used to address him.

************

Once he was outside, he was immediately greeted by stares and whispers as he made his way to Dumbledore, who was just standing there, admiring the architecture of Gringotts.

“Is your work done?”, he asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Yes, professor. Now can we go to Olivanders?” the old wizard nodded, and together, they made their way towards the wandmaker’s shop.

The moment he entered; Ron felt that strange, _magical_ feeling of the inside of the shop which he had basked in when he had bought his unicorn wand. Just like last time, he was startled by olivander’s ethereal voice appearing out of nowhere.

The famed wandmaker walked out from behind a shelf, his bottomless grey eyes staring at Ron’s soul. “Ah, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Dumbledore, what brings you here today?”, he asked.

“My wand was destroyed due to an extreme flow of magic through it during a duel with professor Dumbledore. Oh, and please call me Ronald, not Mr. Weasley.”

The wandmaker’s eyes widened, and Ron smirked at him. He quite liked getting attention and new reactions from people, to hell with what Potter used to say. “And may I know why you two dueled, along with the details of it. Also, why do you refuse to be addressed as Mr. Weasley?”, he asked in a very curious tone.

Olivander _was_ indeed, curious. Ronald was the most interesting customer he had had since Harry Potter had come here looking for a wand 4 years ago. The moment he had entered the shop, he had sensed a change in the magical ambience, almost as if a dangerous wounded animal had entered it. The magic was really powerful, and looked ready to lash out at anyone who dared to hurt its owner. And then, Ronald Weasley comes and tells him that his wand had been destroyed from an extreme influx of magic, in a duel against Albus Dumbledore. A 15-year-old generating enough power to combat the albus Dumbledore.

This was going to be interesting, _very_ interesting.

“We had a duel in the great hall of Hogwarts, and the hall still bears the marks of Ronald’s blasting hexes. Ronald almost won, but in the end, I disarmed him, after which his wand was destroyed and he felt unconscious due to magical exhaustion.”, Dumbledore informed him.

“And I refuse to be called Mr. Weasley ‘cause my family and friends sort of threw me away for no reason, and so I too ran away from home.”

Olivander’s eyebrows were now as wide as saucers. The Weasleys throwing out one of their own explained everything that had happened. Emotional pain can alter a person’s magic, making it much wilder, not to mention, it could cause a wand to lose its allegiance, which was another reason for the wand being destroyed.

“May I have the remains of the wand?”, he asked, and Dumbledore produced the wand from his robes. The once beautiful wand was now nothing more than a disfigured lump, but ollivander could still remember the ingredients of it.

“Ah, 14 inches, unicorn hair and willow. Relaxed and good for charm work.”, he said absently, before coming back to his senses. Clapping his hands together, he called the tape.

“Well, I think its quintessential to get you a new wand!”, he exclaimed, and while his tools did their work, he rummaged in the shelves for a wand.

“Try this, 16 inches, beech and phoenix feather.”, he said, handing Ron a pretty long wand. He waved it, but got absolutely no reaction from it. The wandmaker snatched it away before producing another wand.

“12 and a half inches, unicorn hair and blackthorn.” This time, when Ron waved it, there was a reaction, but it wasn’t optimal at all and ollivander snatched it away as well.

“15 inches, dragon heartstring and Aspen”. Ron had barely even touched this one before the white-haired man took it away.

This process went on for at least 40 minutes, and Ron still hadn’t found a match. There were some which produced pretty good reactions, but just didn’t feel right in his hands. He didn’t feel the warmth he had felt with his unicorn hair wand.

He also noted that this time, his choosing of a wand had taken 35 minutes more than the last time. He distinctly remembered how the first time around, the second wand he had touched had been perfect. However, instead of beginning to feel desperate, ollivander was just getting even happier and excited, and even Dumbledore was sharing his mood for reasons unfathomable to the red head.

Slowly, a seed of doubt crept into his mind. _What if my magic has changed too much, so much so that I can’t get a wand?_

_Oh, shut up, if you have magic, you can have a wand._

_But, still –_

But the internal debate was broken by Ollivander shouting out the next wand in excitement. “Aha! 11 and a half inches, blackthorn and phoenix feather!”, he said while taking a wand out of its case and handing it to Ron. “I’m sure that this will work!”, he said happily, and even Ron felt a sense of relief in his gut at finally having found a wand.

He took it with a warm feeling inside him, sure that it would work, and gave it a wave.

There was no reaction.

All three people in the room frowned, and Ron’s worries came back at full force. Ollivander just stared at the wand for a full 30 seconds, until his eyes widened as he seemed to realize something, and he began to mumble under his breath.

“No, it can’t be…no.”, he murmured, and Ron couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread and anticipation at the same time. He handed Ron another wand, this one with elder wood and phoenix feather, and the reaction was the strongest by far. When he waved his wand, a pile of papers on the table exploded.

Ollivander was beginning to pale now, but he still handed him another wand, this time with shaking hands and all previous excitement gone. Even Dumbledore was slowly getting paler, and Ron wondered why they were all so upset when he was getting a wand.

This one; elder and thestral hair, had an even stronger reaction, as the wands from one of the shelves were blown away. Ron jumped back, but neither of the other two removed their eyes from the wand.

Two more wands later, Ron had found his match. Ollivander had handed him one last wand, right from the back of his store, with shaking hands. Hell, he was even sweating! Dumbledore’s eyes had lost all their twinkle, and he had a very worried and shocked expression on his face.

“Unknown combination of woods with a majority of elder wood, unknown core combination with a majority of thestral hair, 15 inches.”, he whispered. _Combination woods and cores? Never heard of that!_

The moment Ron touched the wand, he felt the strangest feeling. It was like being warm and cold at the same time, dead and alive at the same time. There seemed to be something wild and uncontrollable in the wand, but yet it felt as if there was something… _missing._ Like…. this was not the real thing, but close enough to be mistaken for it.

The wood felt hard and firm in his hands, and despite the weird feeling, one thing was certain – he felt _immensely_ powerful with this wand, as if he could take over the world. The wand itself was nothing special, just a smooth shaft of wood with 4 conjoined spheres adorning it. There was also a small white line carved into the handle of the wand, but Ron didn’t pay it too much attention.

Ron flicked the wand, and the reaction was immediate, terrifying, and powerful. As soon as he flicked it, the room was immersed in complete and utter darkness. All three people gasped, though Ron did so in surprise, and the two men did do in fear and shock.

What Ron didn’t see, was that after he had flicked the wand, a glowing, white symbol had appeared right over his head. it might have looked innocuous to a person who didn’t know the history behind it, but to ollivander and Dumbledore, who both knew what it was, were terrified.

The symbol comprised off a vertical line dividing a circle which was within a triangle, and the line was the one which glowed the brightest. Then, as abruptly as the darkness had come, it disappeared, leaving behind a relieved Ron and two fearful adults.

Ollivander felt his knees shake as he took in what had just happened, and he had to lean on the table for support. Albus Dumbledore rushed forward to hold him up, though he too was as ashen faced as the wandmaker was.

“Ronald”, he said, turning to the child who was oblivious to what was happening. “Could you please leave us alone for a moment?”

Ron’s brows furrowed. “But what abo – “, he started but was cut off by the headmaster.

“I shall pay for you wand, now please, leave.”, he said in a dangerous voice which left no room for arguments. Ron gulped in fear, never having heard the professor use this voice before, and it frankly scared him.

Without another word, he left the shop, closing the door behind him. The sun was still up, and Ron was feeling hungry and had 20 galleons to spend. _Hey, didn’t a sweet shop open here a few months ago?_

And there it was, a few hundred feet away stood Shafiq’s Sea of Sweets, with a generous number of customers pouring into the entrance. As Ron entered and devoured in the wonderful sight of the sweets before him, he made a mental note to ask Dumbledore what was all _that_ about. But for now, he was fully ready to immerse himself in the sweets.

********

Garrick Ollivander's POV

The headmaster conjured up two chairs in which the two haunted adults sat. “Garrick”, he started gently. “What is the history of that wand.”, he asked.

Not meeting the headmaster’s eyes, Ollivander spoke in a trance, lost in painful memories which came to mind at _that_ wand choosing a wizard.

“That wand was the last one my father, Aldrick Ollivander, ever made, and it killed him. He was a brilliant wandmaker, but during his last years, he fell into a dangerous obsession with the myth of the deathly hallows, more specifically, the Elder Wand.”

“He spent 10 years, 10 years trying to recreate the Elder wand. He knew it existed, and even knew a few of its ingredients, but no one knew where it was. And so, he built wand, after wand, in an attempt to make a perfect replica of the deathstick.”

“During his last three years, he went insane due to the myth, and that wand was the result of three years of hard work, blood, sweat, insanity, and finally, death. Even I don’t know the exact ingredients used to make it, but I remember one clear as day.”

“To make the elder wand, it required the creator to be ‘death’, and the closest thing to death we humans can achieve is dying. He…killed himself with this wand. Killing curse, and it was the only spell it had ever cast. He left a last set of instructions. He knew that I would throw away the wand, but he requested me not to, to keep it, looking for an owner. And though I really wanted to throw it into the flames, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

As he closed his eyes, he felt tears prick his eyes, a feeling that he hadn’t felt in 80 years. His father had been the only person he had ever loved, and when he died, Garrick too died, in a way. He stopped feeling most emotions other than from a strictly professional point of view, and now, after 80 years, he could feel sorrow, he could _feel._ He could see the day his father died as clear as day even now.

_An 18-year-old Garrick Ollivander ran towards his father’s workshop, excited to show him the new wand he had made. “Father! Father! Look at what I made!”, he yelled at the door. Not wanting to waste another second, he ran into the door._

_He so sorely wished he hadn’t opened that oak door._

_The sight his eyes were met with when he opened it was burned into his mind for eternity. There, lying on the ground was the pale and unmoving body of his father. His lifeless eyes were staring at the ceiling, and Garrick had immediately known that he was dead._

_And despite knowing that, he had tried to wake his father up, with tears continually pouring from his eyes. “father, father, wake up! please father, look at the wand I made!”, he cried, but to no avail._

_An hour later, he had discovered his father’s note. He hadn’t even left any kind, caring, or loving words for his son._

_Three days later, he buried his father in a graveyard in the countryside. It was a quite affair, and Garrick was the only person to attend._

_Since that day, his eyes had been their milky, ageless white, and he had stopped feeling anything other than magic. He never looked into a mirror after that, but his accidental magic managed to keep him clean and healthy. Since that day, he had become the best wandmaker in the entire world, his childhood dream, but it had come at too high a price._

He had kept the wand which murdered his father right at the back of his shop, and it hadn’t seen the light of day in 80 years, until this day, when a 15-year-old boy had had one of the deadliest burdens in the world dropped on his head.

Out of nowhere, he felt a surge of anger run through his body, another emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was angry at fate for being so cruel, at his father for succumbing to his wild ambition, at Ronald’s family and friends for hurting him so much, that the wand that killed his father had chosen him as its master, at himself for not throwing the wand out, at Ronald for being so unique, and at Albus for destroying Ronald’s wand.

He had always known that the wand was cursed for the user to die an unnatural and horrible death. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he knew it was true. And he also knew that there was no way of escaping it, for the more you resisted the curse, the more people the wand killed, and so he made no move to alert Albus Dumbledore of the fact.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Garrick.”, he said solemnly. “Don’t be, there’s nothing to be done. I just need some time alone”, he replied.

Albus looked at the wandmaker curiously. His usual milky, ageless, emotionless eyes had reverted back to their initial hazel color, and the man had finally begun to look human. With a sigh, he got up and made his way to the entrance. On the way, he kept 30 galleons on the table and summoned a dragonskin wand holster for Ronald, but the wandmaker didn’t even pay attention to it.

“Goodbye, Garrick.”

“Goodbye, Albus, and do take good care of the child”

The wandmaker had spent years trying to forget the wand, and so he also forgot to mention one thing about the wand. It was one of the only two wands in his shop that didn’t have the trace.

As the headmaster of Hogwarts made his way to a table where he could see Ron devouring a packet of sweets, he absentmindedly took out the elder wand and ran a finger along its length. As he glanced at Ronald, looking so innocent and childlike as he hungrily tucked into the sweets he had brought, he felt a small smile tug at his lips

_He has me wrapped around his little finger, and I can’t do anything about it. But god forbid if I let any harm come to him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, reviews are always welcome, and Harry Potter isn't my property in any way. Y'know, I have an idea - from now on, I'll be recommending a couple of fics by other authors in the author's notes of every chapter.   
> Warning - I'm a Ron fan, so most of these will be Ron centric fics. Also, they can be found on either ffn or ao3  
> 1) Fate by Thetruespartan.  
> 2) The Red Knight by Demon eyes Laharl


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: A visit to Grimmauld Place

Ronald Weasley POV

The summer vacations in Hogwarts were 8 weeks long, and Ron planned to have his emancipation 2 weeks before school began. Currently, he was in his 5th week of summer vacation, and it had been his most productive vacation so far.

In the last 32 days, he had lived over 70 days due to his liberal use of the time turners, and most of that time had been spent practicing in the room of requirements. He was now dueling three dummies at once, and could perform mass transfigurations with a single sweep of his wand, without tapping into his emotions. He had also started learning the disillusionment charm, though he was finding it exceedingly difficult, as even after 12 days of trying it, he could only become partially invisible, though when he tapped into his emotions, he could become _almost_ invisible. Oh, and he’d increased his physical exercise regimen.

In the spell learning section, he was beginning to learn a few dark spells as well, and had added around 7 more to his repertoire.

Dumbledore had bought him a dragonskin wand holster, and refused to accept Ron’s money for it. Ron was now proficient at whipping his wand out at a second’s notice. He had also tested out his new wand, and was pleased to see that it was _very_ powerful, especially for destructive spells and curses. Dark magic.

His new wand had something…wild, and uncontrollable about it, like it contained a chained monster, simply waiting for the day it would attain freedom. He could have sworn that the wand was a living, breathing, _bloodthirsty_ thing, but, alas, that could never be proved. What he did know, though, was that when practicing the dark arts, the beast was released for a few moments, and those few moments were like bliss to him. eternal bliss, where he had infinite power.

He had also dueled 4 more times with Dumbledore, this time not completely tapping into his emotions. And he had obviously lost every time, though he was getting stronger every day. Didn’t make it any less embarrassing though. He was also becoming more and more creative in his ways of dueling, like levitating his opponent, summoning their wands, clothing, or themselves, using a sonorous charm to deafen them, lumos maxima to blind them, and casting a reflecting stunner he had found in the room which could bounce off a solid surface three times without losing its intensity. He also wanted to learn the disillusionment charm as it would give him a huge advantage in a duel.

Along with that, Dumbledore had told him about Occlumency, and he had tried it out a couple of times, but it only resulted in him falling asleep while meditating. He decided to postpone learning that, as he preferred to learn and work with tangible things like dueling and charms.

Surprisingly, he had been receiving help from Snape in preparing his argument for his emancipation trial (he had no idea about what to say), and though he regularly made snarky comments, and his sneer was on a lot of the time, Ron couldn’t help but notice that his comments had lost their bile, as if he had begun to almost _respect_ him. And so, though he didn’t like the potions master at all, he too kept out the acidity from his tone, as it wouldn’t do to antagonize his future head of house.

Currently, he was heading the great hall for breakfast with a minor plot for revenge against Potter and Granger in his mind. All he needed to do was manipulate and guilt trip McGonaggal. _Well, that’s going to be fun._

He entered the great hall and sat down at the table where the other teachers were eating. “Good morning, Ronald.”, Sprout greeted cheerfully while buttering her toast with a wave of her wand. “Good morning, professor!”, he responded with equal cheer.

In the beginning, it had been quite awkward sitting with the teachers for breakfast, almost as if they were equals, but a few weeks later, they had slowly begun warming up to him, and now, he was almost an integral part of their breakfast congregation.

Breakfast passed normally, with Ron, Flitwick, and Dumbledore discussing new dueling tricks he was making up.

“ – and so I plan to blind them with a lumos maxima.”, he said, completing an explanation as he finished his last bit of toast. Flitwick considered this before giving him his opinion.

“I think, that instead of lumos maxima, you could use lumos solem. The former could blind you as well, while the latter is targeted.”. Ron made a mental note to look up this spell, and thanked the charms professor.

Just then, the headmaster got up from his seat and wiped his mouth. “Ronald, there’s an order meeting today evening. Would you like to come along?”, he asked with a mischievous smile.

Ron smirked in response. “Of course, professor. I would really like to see their faces when they realize that I broke past the fidelius charm, without the secret keeper telling me the location.”

There were a few chuckles from the teachers, and the headmaster clapped his hands, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Excellent! Meet me in my office at 4, and I really like sugar quills.”, he said before billowing away.

At once, the red head turned to his current head of house, who was sipping from a cup of tea. All the other teachers were present, and Ron smirked internally. He had originally planned to make his request in private, but then had remembered that Minerva McGonaggal was partial to her lions, and it would be really beneficial to have Snape watching on.

McGonaggal and Snape caught the slightly dangerous tone in the red head’s voice, and were immediately on guard. “Yes, Ronald?”, she asked, encouraging him to go on.

“I know that Potter and Granger are the prefects for this year, and they will be receiving their letters in a few days.”, he said in a soft voice, but despite that, all the teachers caught on to his words. “Now, instead of those two _traitors”,_ he spat that word with so much hate and contempt, that all the teachers flinched in their seats.

“I feel someone else, like Neville and Fay Dunbar would be better prefects. If Potter and Granger can’t even treat their own best friend properly, how do you think they would treat other children whom they barely know?”, he asked, this time addressing the table at large.

There was silence for a few moments, until McGonaggal spoke up again. “Ronald, I can’t help but feel that you are doing this for vengeance.”, she asked warily.

Without missing a beat, Ron answered with a deadly smile. “You’re right, I’m doing this for revenge as well.”, and the teachers were shocked at his blatant admission of something like this.

“In my mind, I can’t help but compare those two to Sirius Black, the man who betrayed the Potters.”, he said, the emotion in his voice spiraling upwards rapidly.

“Black threw the lives of his best friend’s family at the dark lord’s feet for his own selfish needs, and those two threw _4 years_ of my trust, friendship, sacrifice, and care, right at my face.”, he said, voice now being infused with the anger in him.

“Now, Lily Potter managed to get revenge on Voldemort for daring to hurt her family, even if it was from beyond her grave, and if there’s one thing about me, it is that if anyone _ever_ dares hurt me, or those I care for, I always have vengeance, no matter who they are.”, he said, voice rising and falling perfectly to create an enthralling speech.

“In fact, I have lost count of the number of Slytherins I’ve punched, just because they dared to insult Potter and Granger, back when I cared for them. And now, those two have hurt me, and I will have revenge. In fact, I have the names of _every single order member_ who voted against me in the meeting, and they will _pay_ as well, dearly.”, he hissed, and all of the teachers were sure that he would go on ahead with his plan.

With those words, Ron got up from his seat and dusted his shirt off, before looking McGonaggal straight in the eyes. His now icy, inhuman eyes met McGonaggal’s green eyes, and the teacher was the first to break eye contact.

“You know, someday I will take revenge on the dark lord as well, for all the harm he has caused to the world and you guys”, he said, sweeping his hands to indicate all the teachers. “Over all the time I have spent getting to know you, I have grown to actually care for all of you – and yes, that includes you as well, professor Snape – and I would go through hell and high water to get back on anyone who would try to harm you. Please, think about my words, and then make a decision.”

And with those words, he turned around and left the hall. He had meant every single word he had said, and he would harm anyone who would dare to hurt these teachers whom he had grown attached to.

This move had also been planned meticulously. Potter and Granger had done a grave mistake by putting him against them, as he knew pretty much everything about them, while they wouldn’t even recognize the new Ronald Tonks. He knew that Granger was an ambitious person, and when Neville became prefect (he actually had no hard feelings towards the chubby boy, as he too had been forced into the situation), she would no doubt be angry, maybe even cry in disappointment. At the thought of her crying, a small part of his heart wanted to not be the one to make her cry, and instead be the one to comfort her.

 _No! She doesn’t deserve anything of that sort!_ , he mentally berated himself.

He also knew that Potter would never expect Neville to become prefect, and his look of shock on seeing the prefect badge land in his hands would no doubt push the two boys apart. So, in the end, every time they would see Neville and Fay leaving for prefect rounds and meetings, things would become awkward and tense between them.

 _I will rip them apart from the inside out, teach them to never get on my bad side! And I will enjoy every second of it!,_ he though viciously and victoriously. He didn’t notice as his magic caused a few cracks to appear in the marble floor.

*****************

Minerva McGonaggal simply sat on her chair, her cup still held in her hand but forgotten, as she thought about what Ronald had just said, and the new side of himself which he’d just displayed.

He had brought forth some valid points, and even she would have sought vengeance in his situation. In fact, she had been teetering on the edge on whether to make Hermione Granger prefect or not after her actions. Albus, surprisingly, had told her not to make Harry Potter a prefect, as he had some work to do with him. He’d also asked her not to make Ronald prefect, something which left her scratching her head. And thus, Neville Longbottom’s prefect status was already decided. But Ron’s words had tipped her over the edge, and so, at that moment, she decided that Hermione needed to learn to face the consequences of her actions. She would not be made prefect.

On the opposite end of the table, Severus Snape sat, mulling over the words Ronald had spoken. His parting words, where he said that he would face down even the dark lord for their sakes, for _him,_ a person who had been the cause of his love’s death, truly warmed his heart.

_I don’t deserve his care and worry. But I will not let another person die due to me._

****************

That day, Ron mastered the disillusionment charm, and had managed to walk around the castle without anyone being the wiser. He was surprised to find out that he could maintain the charm easily for 20 minutes, after about an hour of practice, without feeling exhausted, but he put it down to him having exercised his core a lot more than normal.

In the evening, he walked into the headmaster’s office after taking a long bath in the prefect’s bathroom. Dumbledore seemed to be writing something, and without looking up, he greeted Ron. “Hello, Ronald.”

“Good evening, professor!”, he responded cheerfully as the headmaster got up from his seat. “So, how would you like to enter the order HQs?”, he asked while smiling mischievously. “Hmm, I think we should travel to just near Grimmauld Place by phoenix fire, after which you would enter. 5 minutes later, I’ll barge my way in. will give them quite a shock to see that I broke past the fidelius charm!”, he replied cheerfully.

“Perfect!”, the old man hummed as Fawkes flew towards them with a trill. He too seemed to be enjoying ‘pranking’ the order. As the phoenix flew onto their shoulders, he once again felt the wonderful feeling of phoenix fire engulfing him, before they popped out in front of a row of colorless, victorian era buildings which looked like they’d been crammed together in a concrete sandwich by an angry toddler.

Ron examined the house numbers, and saw that there was no.11, then 13, but there was no number 12. He closed his eyes and concentrated on remembering what was written on the piece of parchment. _12 Grimmauld Place is the headquarters of the order of the phoenix. 12 Grimmauld Place is the headquarters of the order of the phoenix. 12 Grimmauld Place is the headquarters of the order of the phoenix._ , he repeated in his mind.

Suddenly, between number 11 and 13, it looked like the two building were being pushed apart be something. Ron’s jaw fell in awe and wonder, as out of nowhere, a number 12 appeared in between the two buildings. As the building had slowly appeared, Ron could have sworn that he had heard a grating sound, but of course there was none.

“Merlin”, he whispered into the cool night air in awe, and Dumbledore chuckled at his reaction. In a few moments, he was hidden behind a car, watching the entrance through the tinted glass. Dumbledore walked up to the door and simply knocked, and a few seconds later, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter appeared at the doorstep, welcoming the headmaster with whispered words, who entered gracefully, after which the four children closed the door behind them.

Due to the silence of the place, Ron could audibly hear the loud creak and click which indicated the door being locked. He simply sat there, staring at the door and idly playing with his wand as he waited for the five minute mark to get over. Just out of sheer boredom, he levitated one of the rocks lying on the ground and made it do loop de loops, before he suddenly remembered the trace.

His eyes widened for a second, before he quickly disillusioned himself and cast a silencing charm on his nose, mouth, and feet. _Shit, shit, please don’t come here ministry!_ He waited there for 5 minutes, waiting for ministry officials to come and take him away, before it became apparent that no one was coming.

He let out a sigh of relief, before walking towards the order HQs (with disillusionment and silencing charms still intact), and knocked on the door thrice, loud and clear.

Once more, it was the four children who answered the door. _Guess the meeting hasn’t started yet, as they clearly expected more people to come._ The children were looking around in confusion, and a bit of fear in their expressions, and Potter was the only with the good sense to draw out his wand.

Smirking invisibly, he wordlessly summoned the four wands to his left hand. The look of fear and shock on their faces which lasted for a single second was priceless, until he swiftly punched Potter and Neville in the gut, causing them to double over. The other two, surprisingly hadn’t screamed yet, and so he managed to twist the girls’ ears, while kicking the door shut with his leg.

The two boys were finally up and had their hands up in a fighting stance throwing punches into the air. _Hmm, smart idea while facing an invisible opponent_ , but Ron was crouching on the ground, due to which all the punches simply flew over his head. Before his opponents could think of screaming for help, Ron hit all of them with really powerful stinging hexes to the stomach, causing them to yelp in pain, and in a second, he had removed the disillusionment charm, and jumped straight in front of their faces, and yelled ‘GOTCHA!’

In the following cacophony, no one even noticed the portrait of Walburga Black screaming bloody murder.

There was a split second of complete, utter, shock on their faces, before all four of them screamed at the top of their lungs in unison, and Ron broke into laughter.

Upon hearing Moody’s wooden stump clacking on the floor, he idly cast a protego to shield him from and spells coming from the room in which he had no doubt that the order meeting was about to commence.

He saw Moody, Sirius, Dumbledore, Nymphadora, Snape, McGonaggal, Lupin, his parents and a few other people he didn’t know, storm into the corridor, and before he knew it, the scarred auror was firing a range of spells at him, and he was forced to react.

A cutter glanced his shoulder, and Ron grit his teeth to stifle the pain. In a flash, the two duelers were up and fighting in earnest in the corridor, and Ron knew he would lose the fight unless he tapped into his emotions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Potter’s angry face, Granger’s shocked one, and he felt his anger and pain come back in full force, but this time, he let it wash over him, and he fueled it with other memories.

He was hit by a banishing charm which threw him to the closed door, and he felt a wave of pain wash over him, but it was soon drowned out by his emotions. _‘STUPEFY! STUPEFY! FINITE! RUMPERE!’,_ he yelled while slashing his wand towards the auror who had initiated the meeting which had changed his life forever.

The older man was taken aback by his assault, and just barely managed to put up a shield in time, though he had to deflect the last spell. That was all the time Ron needed, as he closed his eyes before yelling _‘lumos maxima!’_ ,

He could feel the bright light heat up his eyelids, but at least he hadn’t been temporarily blinded like the others in the room. Out of nowhere, he heard a spell flying towards him, and the only reason he dodged it was because of his reflexes from dueling dummies.

 _Oh shit! Moody’s magical eye! It won’t be blinded!_ , he remembered suddenly. He dived to the floor, and felt several splinters bury themselves all over his body, but he didn’t pay them attention. He cast a whispered rumpere (he didn’t want the headmaster to see him casting a dark spell. His excuse was that he had read the spell in the library, and after he had learnt it, he decided to never do so again), aiming for the man’s legs which he could see a few feet in front of him, and this time, he made contact. With a sickening crunch, the bones in his normal leg shattered, and he fell to the ground, unable to walk. He didn’t see the stunner which the auror had thrown at him at the same time, and it would have knocked him out for hours, had his magic not deflected it.

In less than two seconds, he was up on his feet, had Moody’s wand in his hand (though that one had required a diffindo to the wrist), and had his wand aiming point blank at the auror’s face.

Ron was panting and breathing heavily, along with feeling a bit light headed due to his crash with the door, but he had won, and that was all that mattered to him. He relished in Moody’s shocked and slightly fearful expression which was looking up at him from the floor.

“If you ever dare ….throw a spell at me ever ….again, I will _kill_ you.”, he said in a dangerously low whisper through pants, but everyone could still hear him. Quickly, he cast a non verbal stunner at the auror, and whipped around to face the other people (who had been un blinded) with his wand raised, but he still whispered _‘accio wands’_ , and six more wands flew into his open left hand, which already held three other wands.

“Anyone else?”, he asked with false cheer. He knew that the only reason he had won was because mad eye had quite possible underestimated him, and because he had had the element of preparation, and also because he was the lankier one, which gave him more mobility in the cramped corridor, but he didn’t care.

There was complete silence for thirty seconds in which everyone simply stared at the red head who had arrived out of nowhere. Everyone had looks of disbelief, shock, and a tinge of fear written all over their faces, and Ronald basked in it. Dumbledore was smiling at him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fred and George left speechless.

The silence was finally broken by Sirius in the most eloquent way possible. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE!”, he yelled, and Ron mentally chuckled.

A bald, dark skinned man spoke next. He had a deep voice which washed over him and made him feel calm. “I think…a more appropriate question would be _how_ on earth did Ronald Weasley get in here.”

This time, Ron didn’t feel his blood boil at being called a Weasley, and instead, he broke into fits of laughter at the flabbergasted expressions of the people, who just kept staring at him as if he was from the moon.

Out of nowhere, a wave of dizziness hit him, and he barely stopped himself from falling forward by grabbing the wall. He dropped the wands he had summoned, and felt the back of his head. His hand drew back covered in blood. He could feel it trickling down his neck, and he felt the need to sit down.

But then, out of nowhere, it felt like something had been fixed at the back of his head, and when he felt his injury again, he saw that the injury had disappeared. He looked around, and saw that Dumbledore was smiling at him, and he gave the headmaster his silent thanks.

“I think, we ought to take this matter inside. And yes, the children are also allowed for now.”, Albus Dumbledore said while conjuring up some chairs which he sent floating into the meeting room.

Within 30 seconds, everyone was inside the meeting room, and it was quite a cramped place in there. Ron was drinking water from his wand, and only then did he pay attention to the place where he had just fought a duel.

12 Grimmauld place just exuded the air of a place which was meant to make you miserable. The walls were all a drab color, Ron had noticed the heads of dead house elves hung on the wall, and he had no idea what sort of a madman would do something like that. The furniture was all very dusty, and in the meeting room, there was also a cupboard which simply _reeked_ of Dark magic.

Overall, it was not a sort of place Ron would want to live in.

He looked at the people in the room, and saw that all the people were waiting for him to finish drinking with looks of awe, fear, and barely contained anticipation on their faces. The ones who were staring at him the hardest were his ex - family and ex – friends. Potter was staring at him with a pained, but curious look, Ginevra had a …blank.. expression, Longbottom simply looked confused, and Granger was looking at him with an unreadable expression. All four of them were clutching the place where they had been hit by the stinging hexes, and he felt a bit of satisfaction at that. He didn’t even bother to see what the rest of his family’s reaction was. However, Sirius’s expression was the one which Ron liked the most. He was looking at him with pure awe written all over his features.

In a corner, he could see Lupin and McGonaggal tending to Moody’s broken leg, and felt strangely satisfied with the fact that he’d shattered a man’s leg to smithereens.

When he was done drinking, he took some water in his hands and washed his face and the back of his head with it. He kept his wand in his right hand, and looked to the Order of The phoenix.

 _Some order, if I could defeat their strongest soldier in a duel_ , he scoffed mentally.

“Alright, so fire away with your questions.”, he said, and immediately, his mother was the first one to open her mouth. “RONA – “, she started, no doubt to berate him, but he hit her with a non verbal silencer before she could complete the second syllable.

“Shush…”, he said while holding his wand to his lips in a condescending manner. “Neither you, nor any of the Weasleys have any right to talk to me, or even address me by my name, other than Arthur Weasley.”, he whispered, as if trying to calm down a crying baby. Just as expected, his ex -friends, and ex – siblings all opened their mouths to speak at one, and Ron silenced them all with a single wave of his wand.

“And to those whom I just silenced, you will only talk when I tell you to, or else the consequences shall be dire. Also, to the others, you will address me as Ronald.”

Ron was seriously enjoying ordering these people around, and he planned to make his prank worthwhile. This was going to be a lot of fun.

***************

Sirius Black POV

To say every person in the room was shocked would have been the understatement of the year. Sirius had known Ron (albeit not very well), and he had been a cheerful, fun person, who never insulted anyone. But this Ron…first he had broken through the Fidelius charm, disarmed four people his own age, who were Harry, Hermione, and Ginny nonetheless, and had then just defeated _Alastor Mad – eye Moody_ in a duel! And now he was performing mass nonverbal spells like it was nothing. Where the fuck had the old Ron gone?

But Sirius couldn’t deny one thing, he was in awe of the amount of power the red head now possessed.

“Alright then, you, the bald one! Tell me your name, and then ask me your question.”, he ordered lazily.

It was not easy to make Kingsley Shacklebolt confused, or angry, or awed, but he was feeling all those feelings at the same time right now. Narrowing his eyes, he answered.

“Kingsley Shacklebolt. First of all, how on earth did you get past the fidelius charm on this place?”, he questioned while sending a tiny glare at Albus Dumbledore, who looked just as confused.

“There exists something called blood magic and dark magic.”, he answered curtly. Sirius was shocked, as was almost everyone else in the room, and not only by the answer. Ok, first of all, what was a 14 year old doing dabbling with Dark Magic, but then, which teenager possessed such an icy voice, and what the hell was wrong with his eyes?

This time, it was Sirius who asked the question. “Alright, so first, obviously welcome to my humble abode,”, he joked, and to his surprise, Ron was the only one who chuckled. Didn’t look like he was angry at him.

“My question is, what the fuck are you doing here, Ron?”, he asked, though there was no trace of contempt in his voice. Ron smiled at him before answering.

“Oh, I just came here to visit my wonderful family and friends!”, he said, voice dripping with contempt and sarcasm, and the Weasleys, along with Harry and Hermione flinched violently.

“How did you break Alastor’s leg, and how did you become so powerful?”, Albus asked, his eyes blazing with surprisingly more curiosity and worry than anger.

“Magic and practice.”, he said, while flicking his wand dismissively. By now, Ron had raised his feet onto the table, and Sirius had to resist the urge to laugh at Remus’s and Molly’s expressions.

“How did you practice dark magic in England? The ministry would have arrested you!”, Emmeline barked suspiciously. When Ron didn’t answer, she added her name at the end.

There it was once again, the shift in eye color, and the coldness which emanated from him. “Who ever said that I was a citizen of England?”, he asked, voice once more laced with hate, running through it like poison in one’s veins. Unforgiving, and deadly.

The eyes of everyone present widened in surprise at the implication. No one noticed Nymphadora Tonks trying her best to hold in her laughter. “I’m sure all of you read my parting letter, and so I guess I ought to tell you where I live now.”

“I currently live in France, in an orphanage”, he said, and the words were like an arrow flying towards the Weasley adults, who winced. “A few weeks ago, there was an attack of death eaters where I lived, and I nearly died. After that, my home was destroyed, but I managed to kill one of them. He was carrying a tome on the dark arts for some reason, and I used that to learn new stuff.”, he explained, without even a hint of trauma from nearly dying and from killing someone.

Sirius glared at all those who had voted against Ron, and all of them flinched under his gaze. This included his own godson. “And, how can we believe you?”, asked Dedalus, with shock evident in his tone.

Ron simply gave them a bitter smile, and got up before removing his shirt. There were several gasps all across the room, including Albus as they saw his once lanky frame, now unrecognizable.

He had clearly filled out, and was looking really muscular, but what drew the gasps were the several scars crisscrossing across his body, like he had been caught in the middle of crossfire during a duel.

It was clear that most of them were from cutting curses, though there were a few spots which looked like they had been hit by some dark flames. It was clear he had been through battle and come out stronger and deadlier than before. Though the scars didn’t make him look ugly in the slightest (in sirius’s opinion, those made him look cool, like the one he himself had on his chest.), their existence in itself was shocking.

Only Ron knew that he had taken to dueling shirtless, and begun keeping the scars which made him look cool, but they didn’t need to know that. However, he also kept those scars as they reminded him of how much he had changed

“And, just in case you’re wondering why I don’t feel any trauma from killing a person, let me make one thing clear; in my eyes, his life had as much value as Lupin’s, or Potter’s, or Vance’s – absolutely no value.”, he said in a cold whisper which made Sirius’s blood run cold. He could see tears come to Harry and Hermione’s eyes, and he strangely didn’t feel anything at the sight. Though from the outside Ron looked like a 15 year old, they all understood that he was much older on the inside.

Sirius felt a familiar sense of guilt, anger, and shame fill him up. Why hadn’t he stopped that stupid meeting! It was also his fault that Ron had had to suffer so much. Fuck the order! As he glared at the rest of the order members, he saw identical looks of guilt and shame on all their faces. _Hah! Now they look pitiful!_

“That book contained the information on how to get past the Fidelius, and I risked my life to get that book, just so it couldn’t reach Voldemort’s hands. So, in a sense, all of you owe me a permanent debt.”, he said scornfully, and with that, he put on his shirt again.

“Hey, Sirius, could you show me the library?”, Ron asked, breaking the ex-convict out of his thoughts. “Uh, yeah”, he said while getting up, and he sent one last filthy glare towards all those seated at the table.

Sirius took the red head to the library which was situated on the topmost floor, though he wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going, as in his mind, he was trying to figure how best to apologize to Ron for everything that had happened.

Way too soon, they found themselves inside the library, with Ron looking at the books in awe. Sirius took a deep breath before launching into an apology, but before he could even do so, Ron had hit him with a silencer.

He watched as the teenager cast a silencing and locking charm on the door, before removing the silencer from him. He was _smiling_ , for goodness sake, but it was not the disturbing smile he had seen before. This one was sheepish.

“Sirius, there’s no need to apologize.”, he said, and he looked at the red head in bafflement. Ron took a deep breath, before launching into an explanation of what had happened.

15 minutes later, Sirius found himself thanking the gods for the silencing charm on the door, as he was on the ground, laughing so hard that he was crying. When he finally managed to control himself, he conjured a chair on which he sat as he looked Ron straight in the eyes.

“So, let me get this straight, you, singlehandedly, managed to convince Dumbledore to allow you to live at Hogwarts, became an expert dueler, dueled the old man during which you lost your wand, convinced him to introduce two new subjects, get all your teachers to like you, and then decided to prank the entire order together with Dumbledore, McGonaggal, and Snape.”, he said through hiccups.

“Yup!” he said cheerfully, popping the P. “Are you sure you ain’t one of the maurauders from the past?”, he asked, his mouth threatening to burst into laughter once more.

“Nope!”, he answered, popping the last letter once more, and that set the man off once again. Another 5 minutes of hysteria later, Sirius finally grew more somber, and asked his next question.

“Still, why don’t you tell the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione about it?”, he asked, instantly wishing that he hadn’t. Immediately, a pained and angry look overcame Ron’s features, and Sirius once more found himself wondering how it was possible for a person’s mood to change so quickly.

“Sirius, those traitors are not my family anymore, and neither are Potter and Granger my friends. You know, when they left me…. I wanted to die, it hurt so much. I just can’t go back to loving them as if nothing happened, and they haven’t even made a single move to apologize to me yet. You yourself saw, what their first reactions were when they saw me. All three of their faces displayed anger at me for barging into their private place.”, he bit out angrily, and Sirius sighed.

“Ron, you do know that neither of them has looked happy in the slightest ever since they left you? I have lost count of the number of times I have heard either Harry or Hermione crying in a corner.”, he said, trying to get back Ron, though he too, understandably, didn’t want to. Anyone would have felt betrayed in his position.

Ron scoffed in response. “And yet, when I opened the door, I saw the four of them at perfect peace with each other. Hell, I even heard them joking as they walked towards the door! I don’t want anything to do with them anymore, and you can’t convince me otherwise, Sirius. They’ve made their choice, and so they have to learn to live with it. And you will not tell them the truth now, as I want them to pay for what they did to me.”, he said while standing up with a stormy expression. “Goodbye, Sirius.”, he said, and walked out of the room after summoning a book on exotic spells and shrinking it to fit in his shirt pocket.

Sirius sighed and followed him down. As he reached the corridor, he saw Harry and Hermione trying to apologize to him, but he just pushed past them. Once he reached the corridor, he called out “Fawkes!”, and to his shock, Dumbledore’s red and gold phoenix appeared and perched on the red head’s shoulder, and in a flash, he was gone in a burst of phoenix fire.

The moment he was gone, Hermione ran into the bathroom, no doubt to cry, while Harry slowly walked to his room with a stony expression, where he was sure he would release his sorrow and guilt by wrecking everything at an arm’s length.

_What have you done, Harry, Hermione, what have you done. You might have just lost the best friend you could have ever asked for in the world._

*****************

Ronald Weasley’s POV

Fawkes landed him right where he needed, in front of the room of requirements. With a whispered thanks, he began pacing in front of the wall, willing the room to appear. When it finally did, he immediately rushed into it, tore off his shirt, and asked the room to throw everything it had at him. He was rewarded with 4 dummies which looked intent on hurting him as much as possible.

With eyes blazing with anger and pain, he ordered, “Give me all you’ve got.” The dummies nodded, before all 5 of them began attacking Ron all at once, and though they didn’t use any lethal spells, they sure could hurt.

 _“REDUCTO! BOMBARDA! EXPELLIARMUS! EXPULSO! VERAVERTO ! INCENDIO ! SECTUMSEMPRA ! RUMPERE! STUPEFY! LACRISSO TERRIFICA!”,_ he yelled as he ducked and wove through the spells flying in all directions. Due to his rampant emotions, his magic too was assisting him, slapping away dangerous spells, but a lot of them still made contact.

Three cutting curses hit him at the same time, and though he fell onto one knee from the pain, he continued to fight. He was like a whirlwind, his wand signifying death for any dummy caught in its path, the blue tendrils that shot out of him every now and then like venomous tentacula.

After just 9 minutes, all 4 of the dummies were down, and the room, seeing that its master wanted more, kept on a ready supply of dummies, and Ron demolished them all. His list of injuries kept on growing, and he didn’t even notice when he started crying, salty tears, blood, and sweat mixing and flowing down his skin.

At last, when he couldn’t open one eyes due to a nasty stinging hex to the side of his face, he was left with just one, battered dummy left in front of him. Imagining the faces of all the people who had betrayed him, but for whom he still couldn’t help but keep a place in his heart, he screamed two words which should never be incanted.

 _“AVADA KEDAVRA!”,_ he screamed at the dummy, his wand moving almost of its own accord in the shape of a lightning bolt, and a sickly green light emerged from his wand, hitting the dummy face on, causing it to splinter and fall apart, but still, the pain did not stop.

_Why, why did my life have to be so messed up? Why can’t Hermione just leave me alone? Why can’t I ever stop looking at Harry as my closest brother? Why can’t I remove them from that tiny part of my heart?_

_And why does it have to hurt so fucking much?_

_I just want it to stop…please, stop this pain in my heart, please. I beg you._

These were the thoughts running in Ron’s mind as he stood there, panting heavily, tears and blood streaming down his face in equal measure. You see, no matter what all he could do, he was just a boy in the end, a hurt boy who wanted for nothing more than the pain to stop.

The room of requirement heard its user’s request, and saw how its first response had been wrong, which was why it came up with another solution, albeit one it didn’t like too much.

Suddenly, Ron felt something hit the back of his knees, and he felt himself fall into a chair. A dummy emerged in front of him, and Ron smiled, hoping that this piece of magic would could finally end his pain, that it could kill him so he wouldn’t have to worry about all the shit in the world anymore.

It raised its wand, and Ron closed his eyes, waiting for peace. He heard a robotic voice whisper _‘crucio’_ , and felt something hit him hard in his chest.

The effect was immediate, and in that one second, his world exploded in a sea of pain. His head was being shattered by a hammer, his bones were being slowly bent until they snapped, his nerves were on fire, his skin was being stretched till it ripped, there were countless needles of fire piercing him, his nerves were on fire, and all he knew was pain. He could hear someone screaming, until he realized that it was him.

He had never thought so much physical pain possible, and it felt like it had gone on forever, until it abruptly stopped, leaving Ron panting in the chair. He felt the dummy disappear, and the chair being replaced by something warm and soft.

He could hear soothing music coming from somewhere, and it made Ron feel at home, and safe. He could also feel something pouring a potion into his mouth which he swallowed, and another hand rubbing his chest and back with some sort of ointment. As his eyes slowly drooped, threatening him with falling into unconsciousness, he suddenly noted something.

_Hey, the pain stopped!_

And though he had just spent 30 seconds under the cruciatus, had lost quite a bit of blood, and had a very exhausted magical core, he finally welcomed the darkness, hoping he could stay like this: free, warm, safe, and worriless, forever.

Strangely, he’d never have any nightmares of being put under the cruciatus curse, unlike its other victims.

***********

Hermione Granger’s POV

Far away, on the other end of the country in London, Hermione Granger sat with her knees tucked into her chest, rocking back and forth as she cried her soul out.

_Because why, why did she have to be stupid? Why did she ever leave Ron? Why did the order have to make that stupid decision? Why did life have to be so unfair? Why couldn’t Ron accept her apology? And why did she have to fall in love with the most annoying, caring, amazing prat in the world?_

She didn’t know how long she stayed there, simply sobbing until her tears ran dry, wallowing in her own guilt and pain, but at some point she felt a warm arm wrap around her shoulders, and that had simply caused her to start crying again as she remembered how Ron had held her as she cried during Buckbeak’s execution.

“Shh…..it’s okay, everything will be alright.”, the voice said, and she vaguely recognized it as a woman’s voice. She looked up with bleary eyes into the face of Tonks, who had a sad but caring look on her face.

“Shh….Hermione, there’s no need to cry. Go, have a bath, and everything will be alright. Now get up, come on!”, she encouraged. The bushy haired girl wiped her eyes, and with the help of the metamorphagus got up, leaving her wand on the basin as well. Why, Hermione had no idea.

The older witch conjured up a towel which she handed to Hermione. “Now, go on, take a shower, and everything will work out, ok?”, she said. Hermione nodded, and took the towel.

Once Tonks was gone, she locked the door with a flick of her wand, and entered the shower.

She slowly stripped down until she was completely naked, and turned on the tap. As she washed her entire body in the painfully hot water, she knew that she would have some nasty burns when she got out, but she didn’t care. She wanted to forget everything that had happened, but mostly wanted to forget the pain Ron’s dismissal had caused her, and the hot water provided her a nice distraction from the pain in her chest.

Thirty minutes later, as she stood in front of the mirror, she washed her face, before slapping herself. Hard.

 _This one’s for being stupid._ Again.

 _This one’s for being a coward._ Again.

 _This one’s for never telling him about how you feel._ Again.

 _This one’s for spending 3 hours in the bathroom, crying like the cliche drama queen in those stupid TV movies._ Again.

_And this one, because you’re Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of your generation, and you don’t cry over boys. You analyze your problem, and find a solution to it._

With that, she healed her burns and slap marks with Tonks’s wand, before she finally exited the bathroom to the sight of a smiling Tonks. She had decided that she would be strong, smart, and to not think about bloody Ronald Weasley, she would distract herself by doing something else.

Like, investigate what really happened to him, as Nymphadora didn’t seem too fazed by his story.

And even though Ron would probably never reciprocate her feelings, she would refuse to spend her entire life crying over a boy.

*****************

Harry Potter’s POV

_Punch. Punch. Punch._

He kept on punching the wall until his knuckles were bleeding, after which he shifted to his other hand.

_Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch._

Switch, repeat.

_Punch. Why did I have to be stupid? Punch. Why did I have to listen to Lupin? Punch. Why do I have to miss Ron so much? Punch. Why did he have to be doing so much better without us?_

_Switch, punch. Why can’t I ever bring myself to forget him? punch. Why do I have to lose everything? Punch. Why did the order have to be stupid? Punch. Why does fate have to be so cruel?_

“WHY IS MY LIFE SUCH A FUCKING MESS!”, he screamed, flinging a nearby vase into the wall. The shards flew all over the room, and one of them hit harry right in the forehead. There was a sharp pang, but he relished the distraction.

He roughly pulled out the piece of porcelain, and with a flick of a random wand he’d found on the floor, repaired the vase. With a disturbing smile, he destroyed the vase with a blasting curse, and a few more shards hit him. He had found a new pattern.

_Blast. Fuck my life. Repair. Blast. Fuck the order. Repair. Blast. Fuck the universe. Repair. Blast. Fuck you, Ronald Weasley._

And with the last explosion, he picked up an exceptionally sharp piece of porcelain and held it over his left wrist, right over where the veins were centered. _It would be so much easier. No more worries, no more pain, simply peace._

He wondered if that was what his parents might have felt as they died. Did they feel relief at the fact that they wouldn’t have to live in a war anymore? That they wouldn’t have to fear for the lives of their loved ones? Did they close their eyes and welcome the peace?

With a deranged smile, he drew back the edge of the shard, but just as he was about to bring it down, he suddenly found himself disarmed, and a punch hit him right in his face.

“DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING DARE DO THAT HARRY! DON’T YOU EVER EVEN _THINK_ ABOUT THAT, YOU UNDERSTAND ME, HARRY JAMES POTTER?”, Sirius yelled in his face, and even though he was right in front of him, his words seemed muffled to his ears.

_Sirius…Sirius just punched me. And possibly broke my nose._

Suddenly, a white hot lance of anger shot through him, directed at his Godfather, and he punched him right in the nose without any preamble. The wet crunch which followed contact signaled that now both of them had the same injuries. With blood streaming down both their noses, the two wizards stared each other in the eye, before Sirius punched Harry once more, this time giving him a black eye.

That was the end of the line for harry. Jumping to his feet, all wands were forgotten as godfather and godson fought viciously, punching and kicking and scratching like animals.

15 minutes later, Harry was sporting two black eyes, a broken nose, and a huge scratch on his forehead, but Sirius had fared far worse. He had a split lip, one eye swollen shut, an ear which was twisted at an awkward angle, a broken nose, and multiple scratches.

However, Harry strangely felt much lighter after nearly punching his own grandfather to death, which was wrong on a billion fundamental levels.

(Little did Harry know that Sirius had wanted Harry to punch back. Once, when he was a teenager, he had been rightfully pissed at his entire family, and James had just come along and punched him out of nowhere. After the resulting fist fight, both boys had been injured in several places, but Sirius felt strangely lighter. James told him that _his_ father had once told him that, to calm down a male friend, often all you needed was a good fistfight.

The two had then made a promise to start a scuffle whenever the other was feeling exceptionally down, and both of them had kept their word. Since Harry was pretty much a copy of James but with Lily’s eyes, he had just fulfilled his promise)

Then Sirius cracked him a lopsided smile, and that one tiny action broke down his walls of anger, as it reminded him too much of Ron. He buried himself in Sirius’s arms and finally let the tears fall.

“It’s all my fault!....I shouldn’t have been so stupid….because of me Ron…nearly died!...all because of me, Ron is …now estranged from his family!.....and Hermione! Just because of me, those two will never get together!..... stupid me!...stupid me!....stupid me!”, he sobbed into Sirius’s chest. He didn’t notice as Sirius discreetly healed both of their injuries, or when Sirius had tucked the still sobbing form of Harry into bed.

“I’m sorry…for punching you, Sirius.”, he sniffed out. “Oh, don’t worry, Harry.”, he said while placing a kiss on his forehead.

Slowly, as Sirius caressed his godson’s hair, Harry felt himself falling asleep. Before he fell into unconsciousness, he made a resolve. He knew that his relation with Ron was nigh on unsalvageable, but he could still try. But if he couldn’t….then he would have to simply move on and live with his guilt. He had made this bed, and now he had to sleep in it. He could feel the warm and soft form of Padfoot curl into his side, and his eyes closed.

But one thing was sure, he had a war to fight, and he couldn’t hold back for one person.

****************

Albus Dumbledore’s POV

The moment Ron had left with Sirius, no doubt to tell him the truth, Harry and Hermione also left, and the room erupted in discussion regarding Ronald. Albus was disgusted to see, that now that Ronald had become ‘worthy of attention’, Molly Weasley had burst into tears, crying about her son. On the other hand, Arthur was just staring into space, no doubt fearing what all his son had gone through. The twins had stopped joking and were instead engaged in a whispered discussion of their own, but Ginny Weasley’s reaction was the most curious.

When Albus had seen her, she had had a happy expression on her face, as if nothing had been wrong. But once she had seen her brother’s scars, it became clear that the happy exterior had just been a mask. Inside, she had still been reeling from what had happened to her brother, but she had exuded her normal cheerful aura. Albus wondered what had made a 13 year old capable of hiding her emotions so well.

_Ah, the Chamber of Secrets. She must have hidden her trauma from her family, which was why she has become quite proficient at hiding her true self._

Albus felt a surge of pity for the girl, but just then, Sirius walked in, and though his expression was still one of solemnity, his eyes were now much more cheerful.

Once he had arrived, he informed the table that Ron had summoned Fawkes, who had taken him away to Hogwarts. Albus was not that much surprised at the phoenix answering to Ron, as he probably sensed a kindred spirit of sorts in Ronald, after all, both of them had in a sense died and been reborn.

Though the meeting discussed Voldemort and his advances, Dumbledore’s mind was somewhere else. More specifically, on Ron’s scars, and his use of a dark spell to defeat Alastor, though the scars had been what worried him more. Albus was scared, that Ronald might have been intentionally harming himself to distract himself from his troubles.

Albus ended the meeting within an hour, but before leaving, he had spoken some choice words to emphasize order’s grave mistake of ostracizing Ronald. Just as he was about to leave, Sirius had spoken to him and told him his worries.

“Headmaster, I’m worried that Ron might be ….hurting himself, because I see no other explanation as to why he had those scars”, he whispered to Albus, who had just nodded and assured him that he would check up on him as well.

With that, he called up his trusty companion, and travelled to his office along with Minerva and Severus, but Ronald was not there. And so, he had phoenix fired to the staff room, startling his colleagues who were playing a mini chess tournament.

“Have any of you seen Ronald?”, he asked, and the others simply shook their heads. Immediately, a heavy, dark feeling descended in Albus stomach. _Oh, no. what if he’s trying to hurt himself again?_

“Quick! We have to find him!”, he ordered, his heart now beating faster than usual in fear for the boy he had begun to look at as his own grandson.

“Why, what happened, Albus?”, asked Filius. “At the order meeting, Ron removed his shirt, revealing a lot of scars all over his torso. We’re afraid he might be hurting himself.”, Severus explained, quick and concise. Albus wasn’t sure about it, but he felt that he detected an extra hint of worry in his friend’s tone.

All the teachers were up in a flash, and Septima cast a spell she had developed during the war. _‘Point me Ronald Weasley!’_ , she chanted, and her wand turned towards the corridors.

Albus called fawkes to take them to wherever the wand was pointing, and he apparated them to the seventh floor corridor, but there, the wand seemed to go haywire, and they had to resort to looking for Ronald by foot as _homenum revelio_ didn’t reveal anything either.

His heart now thumping wildly in his chest, Albus nearly ran through all the abandoned classrooms, looking for where Ron might have been training. In one of them, he found 5 dueling dummies, but that was all that he found.

His mind filled with images of Ron slitting his wrists, or bleeding to death, all alone, in some abandoned classroom, only to escape the pain he was in, and Albus’s heart nearly stopped from dread. _No, he’s alive, and you will find him! I can’t let a student die under my watch._

They looked for him for 10 minutes, and Albus ran the length of the corridor at least three times, but yet, none of them had found anything. “Albus, I don’t think he’s here.”, Irma said after they had searched, and Albus felt himself age multiple years in one second. _No…it couldn’t be._

But then a fiery voice ignited within him, which sounded suspiciously like Ronald. _No! you can’t just give up after 10 minutes of searching! You’re Albus bloody Dumbledore! You don’t give up against any challenge!_

Albus drew himself up with a new found sense of determination, and had almost ripped apart the entire corridor in search for him, when suddenly, a groaning sound came from his left, and he whipped around to see a door appear out of nowhere in the wall.

Albus’s eyes widened in shock for a split second, before together, all the teachers ran into the newly made room and the old wizard nearly fell down in shock and fear.

He found himself in a huge, elegantly decorated bedroom. There was warm, soothing music playing from somewhere, and there was a fireplace crackling merrily on one side. But the ambience did not suit the sight which lay right in front of his eyes.

Right there, in front of him, was a king size bed, and on it was lying the unnaturally still body of Ronald. And the sheets all around him were a horrific, crimson, red. He had bled out onto the sheets, and lost so much blood.

Albus staggered forward, to assess how much his protégé had been hurt, and his heart leapt to his throat at the extent of his injuries. He had multiple, recently closed lacerations all over his back and chest, along with quite a few burn marks and other spell damage.

His skin was much paler than usual, making the freckles stand out in a terrible contrast, and his red hair seemed to have lost its color. His breathing was laboured, and Albus immediately knew that if he didn’t get medical attention soon, he might die.

He didn’t even register the multiple screams from the female teachers behind him, as he yelled “FAWKES!” at the top of his lungs, causing the phoenix to appear in a burst of flame. Within seconds, Fawkes had transported them all to the hospital wing, and Albus ran in carrying Ronald’s limp body in his arms.

“POPPY! HELP!”, he screamed, desperate to get the child in his arms to help as soon as possible. Poppy appeared, took one look at Ronald and gave a small yelp at his condition, before she put him on a bed in a flash and cast a series of diagnostic spells at the child.

The scene was eerily reminiscent of when he had earlier brought Ron into the hospital wing, the only difference being, that his injuries were much more visible this time around.

He just waited with grave expression as Poppy worked on the patient. _Please be alright, Ronald. Please don’t die. I can’t lose one more person._

Albus didn’t know how long the healer worked on the red head, but after what seemed like forever to him, Poppy finally reemerged from behind the curtains with a small, tired smile on her face.

“He’ll be alright in about ten days. His magical core had been exhausted severely, but the internal bleeding was much less this time.”, and with those words, her expression became grave once more. “Albus…his injuries, I don’t know if they were self - inflicted or not. I have seen such injuries only on aurors who fought against dark wizards.”

Everyone was silent for a few moments, before Albus spoke up. “I found the place where he practices. In an abandoned classroom, I found 5 training dummies, all set to level 6.” There were gasps from the professors at this new information. Level six was the second highest level on a training dummy.

“I believe, he faced down all 5 at once, and then repeatedly repaired them, all the while neglecting to heal himself.”, Severus theorized, and Albus knew that this was nothing less than self - harm.

“Poppy”, he asked. “Do you think it’s possible to remove his scars?”

The healer nodded in response, “I can do nothing about the old ones, but the ones received today can be healed, something which I am already doing now. It looks like, after his duels, he stumbled into the room where you found him and tried to heal himself, though I have no idea where he got the spell damage healing salve.”, she explained.

Albus’s eyes widened in surprise but he assumed that he had brought it from Gringotts along with opening an account, which was why he had gone over there in private. Goblins sold a lot of stuff, though most people didn’t know that.

As Albus drew his chair next to Ron’s bed, he stared at the sleeping form of the teenager who had gone through things that no one should have to go through, and had done feats which no teen had probably ever done, he slowly mapped out all his features and stored them in his mind.

He noted his flaming red hair which was ruffled in his sleep, his pale skin dotted with innumerable freckles, the way his chest slowly rose and fell with each breath, the way he softly snored while sleeping. Then his eyes were drawn to the scars which peppered his torso, and for the first time in his life, he felt a flower of hate and anger full bloom in his heart, which wasn’t directed towards himself, Tom, or one of his death eaters.

He felt needles of anger pierce his heart which were directed towards the very Order which he had founded, towards Remus Lupin, a student whom he had helped in countless ways, the Weasleys, a family whom he had once been envious of, and towards Harry and Hermione, two students whom he had expected to get attached to.

But instead, he had grown attached to the last person he had ever expected to, Ronald. The order he had formed was pretty much torturing children, Remus had lost his wise decision making skill, the Weasleys weren’t as good as he had thought they were, and Harry and Hermione …..he didn’t even know what had happened to them.

He didn’t know how he had gotten attached to Ron instead of Harry or Hermione. He assumed it was because of the way the two of them interacted. Harry and Hermione looked at him as if he was a god, never treating him like a human, and thus not presenting him any curiosity or a challenge. On the other hand, Ronald was a fellow strategist. He wasn’t ashamed to play games with him, and his wit, something which Harry and Hermione lacked, was something he truly enjoyed.

Ron had started off as just a pawn in Dumbledore’s eyes, until he slowly became an enigma, a hurt and lost child, and at some point along the journey, he had come to truly care for the boy like his own family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I believe that the first half of the chapter wasn't exactly written to the best of my abilities. But, then again, I did finish it while i was in the middle of an online class.  
> So...yeah, Ron's life is getting messed up. Self crucio is a pretty bad idea, but...well, i warned you. If it makes you uncomfortable, you're perfectly free to abandon this fic.  
> Also, fic of the day (update?)  
> Of hearts and heroes by Emmilyne  
> more of a romance fic, but I still liked it  
> Thank you too all the reviewers and kudos - ers and readers!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The last weeks of summer

Ronald Weasley’s POV

Once more, Ron found himself stranded in the hospital wing for a week, and the entire time he couldn’t help but feel antsy about all the spells he could have been learning in that time. Surprisingly, when he woke up, he found his wand not near him, and Dumbledore, McGonaggal, and Snape all glaring at him. _Those three look like three basilisks, with their insta - death glares. Give them fangs and snakeskin, and you’ve got the Slytherin crest._

He was informed that he had been out for an entire day after all the teachers had found him in a bedroom, lying on a bed in a pool of his own blood. _Damn, that’s a disturbing image._

From that, he had quickly pieced together what had happened, and the story he would tell the teachers, though he was sure that the headmaster would discover the room of requirements pretty soon. His story was that he had just found the dummies in a room which he didn’t even know existed, and he had been using those. It appeared that the teachers were worried that he was harming himself, but Ron denied it, saying that he had neglected to heal his injuries.

“That’s basically self harm, Ron.”, Snape had replied with a sneer, and Ron was guilty to admit that he was right. He had been aiming to forget his injuries in the mess of physical pain. And anyways, what sort of a sick idiot put himself under the cruciatus? (but the teachers didn’t need to know of that tidbit just yet. He didn’t want to become snake fodder)

The resulting conversation had been pretty awkward and uncomfortable, but Ron just couldn’t help but picture the three teachers scolding him as his family, making him uncomfortable by talking about things like sex. The thought also made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

The teachers had taken away his wand, as they were afraid that he would hurt himself again. Right then, he had made a huge mistake by whining about how bored he would be.

Snape had smirked and conjured up the potions textbook. “Seriously, do you expect me to read this for entertainment?’, he had moaned.

“Face it, you’re utterly abysmal at potions, and no matter how skilled you are at dueling, transfiguration, and charms, I expect you to become better at potions as well.”, he had replied lazily to chuckles from the rest of the teachers.

“Don’t you want to be better than Potter and Granger? Showing them up in class would be the best course of action for you.”, he had taunted, and that had been the last straw for Ron. He had snatched the book from Snape’s hands, and opened it to see what all they would be learning that year. He hadn’t spoken to any of the teachers anymore that night, and tried his best to pay attention to a shrinking solution’s ingredients.

He must have re-read the same set of ingredients at least 15 times, because before he knew it, he had fallen asleep, and when he woke up, he found himself with the book over his eyes. He really didn’t want to touch that book again, but in the end, he had relented and opened it _just for the sake of entertainment and to get back at Harry and Hermione!_

He had also finally asked the headmaster about his wand, and everything else that had happened in the store, but he refused to answer any of his questions. “I’ll tell you when you’re ready”, he had said, and Ron decided to let the matter rest, though that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t do a bit of research, but later.

Currently, he was in the room of requirements, calling forth the ingredients for a pepper up potion, which was the first thing they would be brewing in fifth year. He didn’t even know why he was making potions instead of checking out the spellbook he had borrowed from the black library, but it was probably due to the personal feud he had with the potions textbook.

He had noticed several queer things about the potions book, like the name of the owner (the half blood prince, seriously? Whose book was this, some cartoon character?), and there were a lot more notes at the edges of the pages than any potions textbook deserved. Secondly, was this person’s ambition becoming a potions master or something, because most of the recipes had multiple custom changes made to them. _Why would anyone even want to become a potions master?_

First, he tried brewing the potion with the original instructions, and he’d understandably failed, and melted his cauldron, something he had believed only Neville was capable of. Next, he had tried the altered instructions, and to his immense shock, the instructions were not only much simpler and faster, it also created a perfect potion.

 _Well, maybe you’re not so bad after all,_ he though while looking at the book curiously. Just for curiosity’s sake, he also tried to brew a shrinking solution, and to his immense surprise, he found himself reciting the ingredients from memory. _Wow, now I’m turning into the Ollivander of potions. I have spent way too much time in the presence of strange potions textbooks._

Once more, the altered process fared much better, though the original one wasn’t _horrible_ either. (it was just 5 shades off from the prescribed blue, and smelt like a rotting octopus). Tentatively, he drank the cooled down pepper up potion, and the effect was immediate. The potion tasted exactly like he remembered – spicy, hot, and pretty tasty overall, and he suddenly found himself filled with energy, energy which he could use to learn some new spells. When he threw the two shrinking solutions onto two separate pillows, the one made by the ‘prince’, as Ron preferred to call him, went perfectly, while the original one caused an explosion rivalling Seamus’s water to rum spell. _Well, would you look at that!_

He banished the potions set into oblivion, before he summoned the book which he knew was lying somewhere in the room along with his shirt from yesterday. A few seconds later, the precious book landed in his hands, and he enlarged it. _Yes!_

He flipped through the book excitedly, stopping whenever he stumbled across an interesting spell. In the end, he settled for the mobile multi shield spell, and another which conjured up powerful winds to either knock down your opponent, or deflect stuff coming your way. There was also a section on transfiguring objects into fire, but he decided to check it out later. Transfiguration wasn’t exactly his strongest suit, and he’d need a lot more practice before even starting of fire transfigurations.

Standing up with his wand before him, he tried out the wand movement for the multiple shields spell. It was a right to left infinity sign, and doing it multiple times put quite a strain on his shoulder, but he still powered on.

About 10 minutes later when he was sure that he had gotten it perfectly, he started the pronunciation, which wasn’t half as hard. _‘Imperipeltas!’_ , he chanted, the word rolling around satisfyingly on his tongue. In two minutes, he had perfected the incantation.

30 minutes later, he still had only been able to conjure up one shield, which too was pretty hard to control. It took all his self-control not to bring in his emotions again, but in the end, he’d relented, and concentrated on bringing up his anger at Harry, Hermione, and his family.

It was getting disturbingly easy for him to tap into his anger, and once he had reached as high as he was willing to go, he let loose. Twirling his wand in front of him, he yelled _‘IMPERIPELTAS!’_ , at the dummy, and this time, three shields popped into existence at his sides, and he commanded them to attack the dummy.

He managed to control them for about half a minute, after which he felt the familiar feeling of exhaustion at trying a new spell begin to kick in, and he stopped it, before falling on to the ground, panting for breath.

He had recognized a pattern in his learning process. Whenever he tried to learn a new spell, it was very exhausting at the beginning, but with a lot of repetition, it almost seemed as if his core and body reserved a special compartment for that spell, and it began to come naturally. Also, now due to his stronger core, he didn’t get exhausted as easily.

Getting up, he chugged down his second vial of pepper up, and turned to the dummy. If it had been a human, it would have at least 1 broken bone, along with quite a few stinging bruises. He repaired it with a flick of his wand, before trying the spell again.

3 hours of practice later, he could manage to control two separate shields for 2 minutes, without emotions. Though it might have seemed impressive, Ron knew that each shield would last only one exploding curse, or a pretty good cutting hex. He would need to improve more. Just then, he remembered about the advice Flitwick had given him.

 _Wait…Lumos Solem!_ He called on the room to give him a book with the spell, and it promptly flew into his hand open at the correct page too.

Turned out _lumos solem_ was a sunlight generating spell, and it created a bright light which shot straight from the wand. It was just a 4th year level spell, so Ron assumed that it wouldn’t be too difficult, which it wasn’t. Only two hours later, he had more or less mastered it. Even though it was a fourth year level charm, Ron had done far more complex spells.

Checking his watch, he saw that it was almost lunch, but he hadn’t even dueled yet. He called the time turner, and went back two and a half hours to the room where he had kept the dummies, and where he often did the second half of his practice, but he made a pit stop at the kitchens before going there. And this time, Ron remembered to not use his emotions, and heal his cuts while fighting against 4 dummies.

As he walked down to lunch, he remembered that today was the day that the students would receive their owls, and Molly and Arthur Weasley would receive the letter telling them about the emancipation trial. Two days later, Molly and Arthur Weasley would arrive at the ministry for his emancipation trial.

******************

Hermione Granger’s POV

Ever since Ron had appeared at Grimmauld place, Hermione had thrown herself into being as normal as possible, trying not to let the guilt gnaw at her, but she couldn’t help it. Whenever she heard someone crack a joke, she remembered how Ron had usually been the one to make them laugh, and how she had been responsible for hurting him, scarring him for life, nearly _killing_ him.

She had had dreams where Ron would tear of his shirt before her, and let her run her hands over his toned chest. Well, when Ron had torn off his shirt in front of the entire order, her first reaction had been a spike of lust straight to her core, but then she had seen the scars lining his entire toned torso, and it quickly turned into horror. Ron hadn’t been lying, he had actually fought death eaters. (Even though Hermione thought that the scars looked incredibly sexy on him, they were still scars)

And yet, despite all she, Harry, and the order had done to him, he had still inadvertently saved their lives, single handedly.

She felt like a monster.

Whenever she slept after that day, her dreams would start off excellent, with Ron kissing her against a wall, pleasuring her in ways she hadn’t thought possible, professing his undying love for her, before in a flash, they would become something straight out of a horror movie.

Slowly, layers of glamours would fall off from his skin, revealing ugly, disfigured, scarred skin. He would look at her, with half his face rotting away, and just say one thing over and over again.

“ _You_ did this to me, Hermione. Hermione, I hate you.”, he would say in a raspy voice, like rusted steel grating against rock, and then she would wake up sweating, and sometimes crying as well.

And so, she had thrown herself into her studies, and the nearest mystery at hand; why hadn’t Tonks seemed too fazed by Ron’s speech? She suspected something might be up, but she still hadn’t found any conclusive evidence, and so her guilt still persisted.

But today she didn’t want to concentrate on any of that, for today they were getting their letters containing the results of last year’s exams, and they would find out who became prefect! Though Hermione didn’t want to sound snobbish, she felt that she would surely become prefect, as professor McGonaggal had always favoured her, and she was pretty much the only Gryffindor who followed the rules.

As she sat in the kitchen of the burrow (they had to go there to receive their letters. Initially, Mr. Weasley was to bring the letters to the burrow by hand, but after a lot of pleading they’d relented) during breakfast, waiting for the owls to appear eagerly along with Harry, Neville, Fred, George, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, she couldn’t help but feel the absence of a certain red head, who should have been here, teasing her about her tension about her exam results.

_No! Don’t go over there, not now!_

_But what if he’s fighting even now? Where is he at the moment?_ Another part of her mind protested.

But her musings were cut off as she suddenly spotted a small flock of owls flying towards them in the distance. She was up in an instant, teeth chattering in excitement, and opened the window with a flick of her wand. _Oh god, please, please, let me get good marks!_

But as the flock came closer, she couldn’t help but notice that there was an extra owl. This one was larger than the rest, and instead of brown like the others, it was a snowy white owl, though not as majestic as Hedwig, and the other ones were clearly intimidated by it.

All the school owls went to the people they were addressed too, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the white owl fly towards Mr. Weasley, who was looking at it with a perplexed expression.

She nearly tore off the letter in her excitement, and had to take a deep breath to steady herself before she opened the letter. In a flash, her eyes went to the marks, and she nearly screamed in relief when she saw that she had gotten all O’s.

It was only then that she noticed that something was missing. _Wait, the prefect badge?_ Her heart dropped to her feet in dread. _No…it can’t be._

She frantically looked all over the place to see if the badge had dropped somewhere, and it didn’t even come to her hand when she summoned _‘Hermione’s prefect badge’_

 _No….no…_ unbidden, she felt tears come to her eyes, because she was so sure that she would become prefect! Now she wouldn’t become head girl either, something she had aspired for since first year, as all head girls had been prefects in their fifth years.

Suddenly, she heard a gasp to her right, and turned to see Harry and Neville staring at a prefect badge in Neville’s hands. Without consent, her traitorous mouth blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“WHAT!?”, she nearly yelled in shock because she just didn’t get how Neville had become prefect. Shy Neville who could never even hurt a fly. But as she saw a hurt expression cross Neville’s face, she realized what she had done, and clapped a hand to her mouth hard enough for it to sting.

Unable to deal with Neville’s hurt look, and the glares she was receiving from Ginny, she got up, and ran to Ginny’s room to deal with her thoughts, letter still in her hands.

*************

She didn’t know that Harry followed soon after her, going to Ron’s room as well, feeling wretched for feeling envious of Neville.

**************

Down in the kitchen, as Neville stared at the prefect badge in his hands, he felt tears prick his eyes as he finally understood why Ron wrote what he did in his final letter. Here he had just seen Hermione staring at him in disbelief as he finally accomplished something, while Harry’s expression had said everything about how _little_ he had expected Neville to become prefect. Without thinking, his legs carried him to the bathroom, where he shed tears in a long time.

**************

At Hogwarts, as Ron dug into the delicious breakfast the elves had prepared, he couldn’t help the predatory grin, like a shark’s smile – hungry, deadly, and full of teeth, stretch across his face at the thought of what his ex - friends must be ding then.

Merlin, did he enjoy breaking people.

**************

About half an hour of crying later, Hermione finally wiped her eyes and deigned to read the rest of her letter. _Fine, what’s happened has happened and you can’t change it. At least look at the rest of the letter._

As she read through the letter, her eyes kept becoming wider and wider until they were in danger of expanding out of her face.

_To Ms. Hermione Jean Granger_

_Congratulations on passing your fourth year exams with flying colors! Here are your grades:-_

_Transfiguration: O_

_Charms: O_

_Defense against the dark arts: O_

_History of Magic: O_

_Herbology: O_

_Arithmancy: O_

_Care of Magical Creatures: O_

_Ancient Runes: O_

_Potions: O_

_Astronomy: O_

_We are proud to announce, that this year, we are introducing two new electives: Dueling and Healing, thanks to a mysterious person who shall be introduced during the opening feast, who found us the teachers for these subjects._

_Dueling as a subject shall be taught be all the Hogwarts teachers together, and Healing shall be taught by professor Ted Tonks, an ex-student of Hufflepuff house, along with Madame Poppy Pomfrey._

_The books required by students for this year are:_

_The standard book of spells: grade 5 by Miranda Goshawk_

_Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard_

_Basic Healing for aspiring healers by Mungo Bonham_

_The art of dueling by Arcturus Black_

_Thank you, and we welcome you for another school year at Hogwarts._

Hermione was surprised, but still ecstatic about the fact that there were two new subjects, and healing and dueling that too! These subjects would be very important for the upcoming war, and she was very confused as to which one to choose, for she could only choose three electives and Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were very important.

She also couldn’t help but feel curious about this ‘mysterious person’, and couldn’t wait for school to begin. With a pang, she suddenly remembered how excited Ron would be if he had been here. He would no doubt have chosen dueling, and he and Harry would have wrecked the corridors.

_No, stop it! And besides, Ron is already an expert duelist, and he probably won’t be at Hogwarts either._

At last, she went down to the kitchen, and at once she knew something was wrong. Mrs. Weasley was nowhere to be seen, and Mr. Weasley was just staring blankly into space as if the world had just ended, the letter still clutched in his hand.

Ginny, Fred, George, and Harry were trying to comfort him, but even they had no idea what was wrong. Hermione vaguely recognized the seal on the letter as that of the ministry of magic. Abruptly, the Weasley Patriarch got up and stuffed the letter into his pocket. “Children, come on outside. We have to get to Grimmauld place quickly.”, he said in a dead, lifeless tone which was not like Mr. Weasley at all.

Immediately, she knew something was wrong. Had someone died? Has one of his relatives been taken to Azkaban for some crime?

As they walked out of the burrow, she walked near to Ginny, and asked her what had happened in a whisper. “I don’t know”, she hissed back worriedly. “That letter just comes out of nowhere with the ministry seal, and mum breaks into tears while dad just stares into space! And no one’s telling us what happened.”

“Ginny…do you think someone could have died?”, she asked slowly. Suddenly, and image popped into her mind of Ron’s dead body being lowered into a coffin.

“No, we don’t really have too many other relatives apart from aunt Muriel, who lives in England, and among the ones which are there, none of them would be so upset if one of them died. And since I know you’re thinking about it, nor, it’s not Ron. If he ….died…..the letter would come from the French ministry.

“Mr. Weasley, where’s Mrs. Weasley?”, Harry asked from somewhere to her left. Without turning to. Mr. Weasley answered in a cold voice which did not belong to Mr. Weasley at all.

“Oh, don’t worry about her, Harry.”, he said icily, causing all of them to take a step back in shock.

“Now, hold my hand and let’s apparate to Grimmauld place.”, he said with forced cheer. The four underage children warily held Mr. Weasley’s hands, and Hermione felt the same nauseating feeling of Apparition, before they landed in front of the order HQs.

The rest of the day passed normally (as normally as a day can pass in a home with Fred and George living in it), and she even tried out dueling once (she understandably lost against Harry), and Fred managed to break his wand dueling George.

Mrs. Weasley also arrived with puffy eyes, and after dinner, she announced that they would be going to Diagon Alley the next morning, to the general assent of the children, though they were all worried about why Mrs. Weasley had been crying.

**************

The next morning, Hermione woke up an hour before they went to Diagon Alley. After breakfast, a ministry car appeared at a location where they had apparated to. The special safe car was because ‘Harry was an important person to Britain, which was why he had to travel safely’, and all of them had rolled their eyes at the ministry. The driver goggled at Harry like he was an exotic species for 30 seconds until Ginny slapped him softly, eliciting chuckles from all the children.

Once they reached Diagon Alley, the first thing Hermione noticed that there were much more people than usual in the colourful place, and she figured it was due to the changes in subjects. As she looked around Diagon Alley, she couldn’t help but marvel at the haphazard wonder of the place, a cacophony of lights, colors, noise, and shops crammed together.

Every time she came here, she saw or experienced something unique. 1991 was her first time visiting this place, 2nd year was Gilderoy Lockhart, Lucius Malfoy, and the brawl in the book store, 3rd year was Sirius Black and 4th year was when she realized that she had a crush on Ronald Weasley after she felt the flutter in her heart as the two hugged.

Suddenly, she heard a high, beautiful trill coming from somewhere behind her, and she whipped around in time to see a huge flash of golden flames appear in the middle of Diagon Alley, eliciting several gasps from bystanders. And then, the flames suddenly disappeared, revealing Ronald Weasley, dressed in a plain white shirt and black jeans, with a phoenix perched on his shoulder.

The entire crowd went silent at his dramatic entrance, but he didn’t even look at them. “Thank you, Fawkes”, he whispered, though it was audible to all within a ten foot radius of him, and the phoenix trilled again before disappearing in a burst of golden flame.

The sight of him, with his slightly ruffled hair, and shirt clinging to his muscles, sent a spike of lust through her, but that was soon joined by pain as she remembered that beneath that innocent shirt, lay a mesh of scars dotting his torso. Pain, anger, lust, sorrow, and love were quite the exotic cocktail of emotions.

As he walked through the crowd, Hermione could hear the whispers follow him, including some of other girls, who themselves were much better looking than her, admiring his style and good looks, and it sent a spike of bitter jealousy through her heart.

_Yeah, look at that. After you left, no betrayed him, he got all buffed up, powerful, and handsome, while you were left behind wallowing in your misery. You have no chance of getting him now. Wait you never even had a chance of getting him in the first place!_

Just then he spotted their little entourage, and gave them a cheerful wave, and Ginny was the only one to return it, to the surprise of everyone, but most of all Ron, who looked like someone had slapped him.

*****************

In reality, Dumbledore had told Ron that what Ginny was showing the world was a mask, and inside, she was hiding her true emotions, and also that she had nearly bitten off Molly Weasley’s head for her decision. Though Ron hadn’t believed the wizard, he had decided to give her, _only her_ , another chance, and her waving cheerfully at him had assured her a place in his good books. He made a mental note to get her some candy.

Ginny too, really missed her older brother, and she _had_ actually exploded at her mother after she had read his parting letter. The only reason she had her mask on, was because Fred and George were strangely defensive of mother, and she did not want to get on their bad side. She had more Slytherin in her than people gave her credit for. When she had read the letter, it had filled her with immense guilt, as everything he had written was true. She _was_ a spoilt brat, Ron _had_ always been neglected, and none of them had ever paid attention to him. She was used to getting everything done her way, and so when she had been faced with some harsh truths, she had closed in into her shell, but now she wanted to get back her favourite brother.

*****************

Ron blinked at her for a few moments, before he gave _only Ginny_ a small smile, then he turned around and headed to Flourish and Blott’s. And even _that_ smile at his sister had sent a pang of envy through her. _Why does she get to be forgiven, while I don’t?_

Mrs. Weasley glared at Ginny for waving to her brother (something which unnerved Hermione. Did that letter have something to do with Ron?), but she just glared back defiantly at her mother. Their first stop was at Ollivander’s to get Fred a new wand, and Hermione immediately felt the magic in the shop calling to her the moment she entered the shop.

Once more, she was startled by the wandmaker appearing in front of them out of nowhere, but she noticed that something was different. His eyes were now a natural hazel brown, and he actually looked human, instead of some timeless being.

“Ah, what brings you here? A broken wand?”, he asked with a smile. “Mr. Ollivander, Frederick has a broken wand and we’re here to find a replacement.”, Molly clarified.

Hearing her voice, the wandmaker’s eyes suddenly sharpened and his brow furrowed, as if recognizing them for the first time. The next time he spoke his voice was much colder than it had been before.

“Molly Weasley, Unicorn Hair and Cherry wood, 13 inches. I remember your youngest son coming here a while back to get a new wand. I must admit, that had been the most curious and terrifying wand choosing I had ever attended.”, he said cheerfully, though something about the way he spoke the words seemed to hit all of them right at the heart.

_Wait, Ron was here to get a wand? And how on earth is picking a wand terrifying?_

But before she could ask her questions, he had called upon Fred and begun taking his measurements. 5 minutes later, the twin had found a new wand, dragon heartstring and vinewood, 12 inches. As Mr. Weasley made to pay for it ( _That money would have been used for Ron’s textbooks,_ she thought with a pang), Ollivander waved his hand dismissingly, refusing the money.

“Oh, I don’t need any money for this wand. Ronald already paid enough for his wand, and countless others. Thank you!”, he said, and Hermione’s confusion simply grew more. _What on earth did he mean by that?_ Oh, and he also said it in the same tone as his second sentence to them.

As Hermione left the shop, she heard the wandmaker mutter something, and she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it, but his words sounded suspiciously like “You killed your own son.”, and it frankly terrified her, which was why she decided to put it away for later discussion with Harry, as Ginny wasn’t talking to her.

Their next stop was Madam Malkins, and it was just in their luck that Ron had arrived at the store just before them, and was currently getting fitted with new school robes, which resulted in 5 minutes of awkward silence, with the twins doing nothing to help by glaring at Ron.

Hermione was immensely surprised when he generated 20 Galleons from a pouch in his pocket and handed it handed it to the witch who was measuring him. By the looks on the other’s faces (including the owner of the shop) it was clear that they too were shocked at Ron owning this much money.

_Where did he get this money? Did he…steal it from somewhere?_

_No…Ron would never steal_

_He killed a person, practices the dark arts, and doesn’t even feel any regret for his actions._

_But wait…phoenixes are strictly light creatures and would never touch a person who practices dark magic._

Ok, Hermione now officially had no idea what was going on with Ronald Weasley. First of all, a lot of the things she had heard and found pointed to him never leaving England. But then again, he had broken past the Fidelius, broken Moody’s leg with _one_ spell, and there was no other explanation for his scars.

So either he was lying….or there might be some dark magic to force a phoenix to aid you as well, and for some reason, she could easily imagine this Ron performing seriously dark and twisted magic.

As he left, he once more smiled at Ginny, before exiting the shop. Out of the corner of his eye, she saw the red head going to a new sweet shop just around the corner. _How much money does he have?_

It took them 10 minutes to find new robes for her and Harry, and to her surprise, Ginny pointedly refused to accept new robes. “I read Ron’s letter, and I don’t want to be a spoilt brat anymore.”, she said with a sniff. Mrs. Weasley looked indignant, and quite hurt, but Mr. Weasley was beaming at his daughter.

Her act made both her and Harry feel guilty, and they too made to return their robes, but were stopped by Ginny putting a hand on their arms. “Oh, no need to act all noble now, once you’ve already hurt him beyond repair.”, she said with a dangerous smile, which caused Hermione to avert her eyes from Ginny’s, when her stare suddenly became too intense to match.

Guiltily, she withdrew her arm, and they made their way outside, Harry and Hermione with their heads down in shame. Then, Ron Weasley arrived in front of them out of nowhere, causing Hermione to jump in her skin.

“Hey Ginny!”, he greeted, his eyes flashing with their old cheer as he noticed his sister not holding new robes. “Hello Ron! When on earth did you get a phoenix?”, she greeted with equal cheer, though Hermione was certain she didn’t imagine the choke in her voice, or the wat glint in her eyes, and it just made her feel all the more guilty.

Ron chuckled in response, a sound which was like sweet music to her ears. She had missed that heavenly laugh so dearly. “Oh, that’s actually Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes. He’s taken quite a liking to me.”

But just then, Fred cut in, shattering the visible tension in the air. “Get lost, you traitor!”, he spat angrily. In a flash, before any of them could even register what had happened, Fred’s new wand was in Ron’s hand, and the older boy was on the ground under a body bind, with Ron’s wand at his throat.

“First, I never gave you permission to open your mouth. Secondly, never dare insult me, and if you ever dare hurt Ginny or Percy, I will hurt you beyond your worst nightmares.”, and with those icy, threatening words, he removed the body bind on Fred, and threw him his wand.

Fred was visibly shaking from fear, and everyone’s jaws were on the floor from shock. There was also a crowd gathering, staring at his display of dueling prowess, and people were whispering about him. Hermione hadn’t even _seen_ his wand whip out, and was that all non verbal? _Wait, he did defeat moody in a duel, so this is nothing for him._

“Hey, what about the trace?”, Harry asked suddenly. Ron looked at his wand curiously. “Huh, this is the second time nothing has happened when I used magic. Guess this wand’s untraceable.”, he said more to himself than anyone else.

Suddenly, he looked to his parents with an icy smile. “Ah, I guess you’ve received the letter. Do arrive on time for the….meeting.”

“Wait, you sent the letter?”, she blurted out in surprise before she could stop herself. However, instead of the wand at her throat, Ron just looked at her with an expression which sent shivers of fear, and longing down her spine. “In a sense, yes, though it’s up to you to figure out the details.”

With that, he turned to Ginny with a warm, _real_ smile, and handed her a packet that he had been holding in his left hand. “Oh, and Ginny, here’s a small gift from me. Use it well. Tata!”

And with that, he left abruptly, and Hermione just knew that he was discreetly smirking due to the flabbergasted expressions of his family and the whispers amongst the crowd. He once more summoned Fawkes, and in a flash of flame, he was gone.

Suddenly, she heard a gasp from beside her, and turned to see Ginny staring at contents of her packet with a slack jawed expression. Inside the packet, there was a large box of new sweets, along with a set of exotic joke items. It must have cost at least 20 Galleons, and Ron was just handing it out for free! Once again, Hermione found herself wondering how much money Ron had earned.

Once their shopping in Diagon Alley was done, the group of Weasleys, Neville, Harry, and Hermione apparated to the front of Grimmauld Place, and the group rushed in, the Weasleys to eat and Hermione to check out her new books.

She ran up to her and Ginny’s room and carefully took out her new book on healing, caressing it like it was a beautiful flower (which in her mind it was), before plunking it down on her book, and getting immersed in its pages.

But before she was even 5 pages in, she suddenly heard the sound of sobs float in through her bedroom door. It sounded like a grown man’s sobs, and there were only two men in the house (Remus was outside on some mission). Sirius was never one to cry.

_Oh, no._

She slowly crept out of her room, and peeked into the room opposite to hers, which was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room. Over there, sitting on the bed with his back facing to her, was Mr. Weasley, sobbing so hard that his body shook violently with each one.

Even though there was loud raucous laughter coming from downstairs, no doubt from the twins having played some prank on someone, the only sound she could hear were Mr. Weasley’s sobs. It looked like he was truly in pain, and her heart broke at the sight.

Just then, Hermione heard a whisper come towards her from the older man. “Ron….oh, Ron, ….why?”, he sobbed. Just then, Hermione noticed the crumpled up letter from the morning, lying behind Mr. Weasley, and an overwhelming sense of curiosity washed over her.

Though she felt extremely wretched at what she was about to do, she just had to get to the root of this mystery. Why would a person cry so much over a letter from Ron?

She wordlessly cast a summoning charm, drawing the letter towards her. The second it was in her hands, she created a duplicate of it and floated the original towards the same place where it had been previously.

As soon as her task was done, she stuffed the paper in her pockets, her heart beating in anticipation and a bit of fear. She didn’t open the letter right there and then, because there was something telling her that she wouldn’t like what it read, and that it would be a good idea to wait until after dinner, so that she could open it with the rest of the Weasley children, Harry, and Neville.

During dinner, Hermione was quieter than usual, something which Ginny noticed. “Hermione, there’s something on your mind. What is it?”, Ginny asked as the two girls were undressing in their bedroom.

Seeing that all the lights were turned off, she decided to let Ginny in. “I got my hands on the ministry letter, and I want to open it with all of you.”, she explained as shortly as possible.

“Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s get to Harry and Neville’s room!”, she said before slipping out of the door. While she went to alert Harry and Neville, Hermione went to call the twins.

Hermione had her words prepared before the twins even opened their door, as she didn’t want to waste any time with their game of verbal tennis.

“I have the ministry letter, and so come to Harry’s room this very instant.”, she said in one breath as soon as the door opened, revealing the twins.

2 minutes later, all the children in the house found themselves sitting on the floor of Harry and Neville’s room in a circle, gathered around the piece of parchment that had made Mr. Weasley cry. Taking a deep breath, with her heart beating much harder than usual, Hermione quickly opened the letter and read it aloud.

Her gut had been right. As the letter progressed, her eyes kept getting wider, and her skin felt colder in horror.

_To Mr. Arthur Weasley and Mrs. Molly Weasley._

_From the department of child welfare and emancipation services._

_We have recently received a plea for emancipation from the Weasley family, from Mr. Ronald Billius Weasley, age 14. Ronald is being vouched for by Albus Dumbledore, supreme mugwump, head of the ICW, and headmaster of Hogwarts. Ronald has also found a foster family willing to adopt him, namely the Tonks family, consisting of Andromeda Black nee Tonks, Teddy Tonks, and Nymphadora Tonks._

_As such, you are being summoned to the ministry on Friday, August 25, for the emancipation trial of Ronald Weasley._

_Signed, Gawain Robards._

As she looked up to the faces of those seated around her, she saw identical looks of horror in all their expressions. Suddenly, she felt a lance of anger spike her heart.

_How could he to this, and that too to his own parents! I have seen how Mrs. and Mr. Weasley treat him, and it’s clear that they love him, so what on earth is wrong with him?_

There was still a small part of her mind telling her that maybe she should look at it from both angles, but the Gryffindor inside her was angry. _Very_ angry. The Weasleys were almost like a second family to her, so how could he hurt them do badly? First, he had made her, Harry, and Ginny cry, and now his parents? Did he not care about the pain he was causing?

The five captors of Fate laughed at the chaos unfolding beneath them.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HIS PROBLEM!”, Harry roared out of nowhere, the anger which he’d been venting out on them the entire summer, once again coming to the forefront, and Hermione was grateful for the silencing charm on the door. By the looks on the others faces, they too shared his sentiment, all except Ginny and Neville. Neville just looked helpless and clueless.

************

On the other hand, Ginny found herself torn between what to believe, as even she felt that emancipation was too far. But at the same time, she could understand where he was coming from. When she had seen the scars, she had had a feeling that not all of them had been earned in a duel.

For some reason, she had a feeling that a lot of them had been self inflicted in an effort to stifle the pain. Just like she had once done, until _Ron_ had come and put a stop to it. To till this date, he had kept the secret, and due to his kind act, she felt obliged to get her brothers, Harry, and Hermione out of their rage.

Multiple times she tried garnering their attention through soft words, until she finally snapped. “COULD YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!”, she bellowed over the din, and everyone fell silent instantly.

“Look”, she started with a breath. “Even I think that emancipation is pretty extreme, but….I also get where he’s coming from.”

“WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU MEAN! –“

“HE FUCKING BROKE MUM AND DAD’S HEARTS!”, the twins shouted in tandem.

Ginny simply sighed, before she decided that she would have to spill her secret. “Did you see his scars that day?”, she asked, and everyone flinched, hard, at her accusing tone.

“I know he told us that he got them from fighting death eaters, but I think that he was partially lying. I think that, his scars were partially caused from self inflicted injuries. He’s been hurting himself to stop the pain of our betrayal.”, she said softly.

Once more, the room was bathed in silence, with all of them staring at her, wide eyes in shock, until Harry’s broke the silence. “H-how wo-would you know what s-self i-inflicted injuries look like?”, he asked, gulping at the word ‘self inflicted’.

Ginny closed here eyes and took a deep breath, preparing to reveal her darkest and most painful secret. If her eyes had been open, she would have noticed Harry subconsciously scratching at his wrists, remembering that painful night. Hermione too, was reminiscing about the burns and slaps she had healed with a flick of her wand.

“Because I have them too.”, she nearly whispered. There were gasps all over the room, but before any of them could come forward to whisper words of comfort, she continued.

“After the ….chamber… I began feeling guilty and started hurting myself to stop the guilt and pain of nearly killing so many people. It would have continued as well, had Ron not stopped me. One night, he found me crying in my room, and he held me, comforted me, and told me never to do it again.”

“When I asked him not to tell anyone, he kept his promise until this day. That time, it was _Ron_ who comforted me. Not mum, dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, no…..none of them. And yet, after all that, we repay him by throwing him away.” As she spoke, she could feel her confidence building, and now she rose up, flustered with adrenaline.

“I too read his last letter, and all the things he said were actually true. He is my brother, the one who was the closest to me, who held me while I cried to sleep, who pulled me out of the darkest part of my life. And so, I will stand by him even if he’s going for emancipation, and I don’t give a damn what you say.”

“Goodnight”, and with those words, she left the gathering and went to her room. She cried herself to sleep that night with memories of Ron, but as she wept, she also thought of how proud Ron would be of her right now, and so she decided to send her favourite brother a letter the next morning.

*****************

As Ginny left the room, Hermione felt her eyes prickle with tears at all that Ginny had told them. Of how Ron might be hurting himself, because of _her_ and of how Ron had comforted Ginny, and they had returned that trust by throwing him out. No wonder how angry Ginny had been.

“So....what do we do know?”, asked Neville, and Hermione noticed that he too had tears in his eyes at the tale. “Do we tell Molly and Arthur that we found out about the letter?”

Immediately, Hermione shifted into her academic mode. “I don’t think we should tell them about all that happened tonight, and neither do we tell them about Ron and Ginny’s secrets.”

“But that means we won’t be able to attend the trial”, said Harry.

“We’ll just have to deal with it in that case. Don’t want to upset mum and dad anymore, do we?”, George said, and it appeared he still hadn’t gotten over his bitterness towards Ron.

Hermione sighed, “So, guess that’s it. We’ll just have to wait here for the result to come.”

“Yeah”, Harry replied dejectedly. For the first time in her entire life, Hermione felt a bit, _just_ a tiny bit of hate bloom in her heart for that red headed boy, no, man, who had caused this much pain to the Weasleys.

As she slept that night, she had dreams of a court where Ron would be standing with Dumbledore in front of a crying Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as a judge banged his gavel. Every time, the sound would reverberate in the room and in her head, causing her to thrash in her sleep in a futile attempt to escape the siren of disaster.

************

Ronald Weasley’s POV

Ron was in the room of requirement, standing in front of a mirror, slicking back his hair for the trial which was in an hour. As he looked himself over one last time, he couldn’t help but stare at how much he had changed.

He was much more muscled now, yet still maintaining his lanky nature (he personally preferred this look, like he was a beast built for speed), his red hair, for some reason, was now a darker, more intimidating shade. Not the bright, playful, cheery shade it had been before. He still had a scar on his left eyebrow from _that_ night.

He was wearing a casual dress, not being able to bother with formal robes. His hair was slicked back, making him look like a red headed Malfoy, but Ron couldn’t bring himself to really mind it. He looked….dignified. Powerful. Like he was someone not to mess with.

And though he liked his new look, there was something which he did miss. The color of his eyes. Normally, his eyes were an azure blue. But now they were almost imperceptibly lighter. And they had lost almost all of their previous merriment, and were now replaced by a cold, icy, hard look.

As he headed towards the headmaster’s office where Andromeda, Ted, and Dumbledore were waiting for him, he thought about what would happen today. This day, would change his life forever, as there would be no chance of sending back things to how they were. And Ron was perfectly fine with it.

He already had the entire day planned out. He would go to the ministry, where the trial would be held, and he would aim to win. Then, he would come back, eat lunch, before using his time turner to go back and spend the entire day practicing.

“Sugar Quills.”, he said to the gargoyle in front of the entrance, and it promptly moved away to reveal the doorway to the office. The moment he entered, the eyes of the three adults in the rooms widened visibly at his new look, and Ron smirked at them.

“Please don’t tell me that you too think I look like a red headed Draco Malfoy.”, he joked, more to relieve himself than anyone else. “No way!”, Ted, his soon to be father laughed. “You look perfect for an occasion like this!”

Dumbledore turned to him, and Ron saw hesitation flicker across his features. “Ron, are you sure about this? Don’t you think that this might be a little drastic?”

Ron wouldn’t deny the fact, that even he felt a flicker of hesitation cross his heart, but he couldn’t turn back on his word now. What was done was done, and they would _pay._

“Yes, I’m sure. I promised that I would have revenge, and you too supported me all this time.”, he answered, voice emotionless. Suddenly, the hesitation in his heart grew too much. _At least, I could take down one of the charges._

“Wait…actually, is it…er- possible to remove the charge of ….physical abuse?”, he asked haltingly. He didn’t know why he was doing this, but he just didn’t want to totally put the Weasley name in dust.

Albus smiled at him gratefully, before he performed a quick spell on the case files, making the changes. Ron sighed at the weight off his chest, before nodding to the headmaster. “Let’s go.”

“Ministry of Magic, Atrium!”, he cried while all four walked into the expanded fireplace together. As the green flames swirled around them, Ron couldn’t help compare them to his life right now. Ok, his life wasn’t exactly the most peaceful, but just in one night, everything had changed. He had been abandoned as a lanky, hot headed, _weak_ teenager.

Less than two months later, here he was, friends with the Albus Dumbledore, 500 Galleons richer, an excellent duelist who could hold up against the Albus Dumbledore, heading towards his emancipation trial.

He had become _strong,_ and he had no wish to become weak again.

As they popped out onto the ministry atrium, a sudden wave of dizziness overcame him, and he had to lean on Andromeda’s shoulder for support. And then, just as suddenly as it had come, it had disappeared, and the world righted itself again.

_What was that? Floo travel has never made me dizzy before._

“Ron, are you alright?”, she asked worriedly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Probably the nerves.”, he answered, and Andromeda seemed to accept the explanation. As they walked towards the place of the trial, Ron could feel the stares digging into the back of his head, people curious at the queer entourage.

Yeah, there was one more thing that hadn’t changed. He still didn’t deal well with attention. Diagon alley was different because over there, the only thing on his mind had been his family’s expressions, and so he hadn’t even been fazed by the stares of the crowd.

But now, watching so many ministry officials staring at him sent shivers down his spine. He simply didn’t look them in the eyes, and soon they reached courtroom number 7, where his trial was to be held.

The other three adults entered before him, after whispering words of encouragement to him, he simply nodded, and took deep breaths to calm himself down. His breakfast was threatening to make a reappearance due to his stomach jumping around like a blast ended skrewt. His skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his hair was standing on edge, and his hands were shaking from anticipation.

“Ronald Weasley?”, his name was called from inside. He took one last breath and crossed his fingers, before entering the room.

It was a large rectangular room, with the judge seated on a chair higher than the others. Behind him was another row of chairs, kept in such a way as if they were watching the center of the room like a play. In the middle, there were two tables. On the left one, were seated his mother and fa – _ex mother and father_ , who were staring at him with an expression resembling defeat and shock, a queer combination.

On the right table, were seated Ted and Andromeda, who were looking at him encouragingly. And there, smack dab in the middle of the room, was a sort of lectern where he would be standing.

His eyes fixed on the judge’s, he trained his expression into one resembling Snape’s expressionless and intimidating mask (though he didn’t quite get it right) he walked over to his lectern, and removed the case file from his pocket and placed it before him.

The judge struck his gavel on his lectern, silencing the whispering audience. “We are here today to overlook the emancipation trial of Mr. Ronald Billius Weasley from the Weasley family, and into the Tonks family. Let the trial begin.”

And with that, one of the tensest hours of Ron’s life began.

“Ronald, your case file?”, he asked. Ron nodded, and floated over the file to him with his wand. The judge looked mildly surprised at him choosing to levitate it instead of walking over, but quickly regained control of his expression.

He read it over silently, before speaking again. Ron noticed, that he also sent one copy of the file to everyone else in the room.

“Ronald, the charges presented in your file are….childish at best.”, the judge said after a while, though there was no contempt in his voice. Instead, there was mild amusement, and it made Ron’s temper flare up immediately, like a roaring beast. _Gods, I really did inherit the Weasley temper, didn’t I? But I have no intention to change it._

“All children undergo a feeling of jealousy due to their parents taking care of other children mo –“

“Judge, have you read the file properly?”, he asked before the man could continue. The man looked surprised by the interruption, and Ron took that moment to continue.

“I understand what you mean, but there is a limit to neglect as well. You know that a wand is the most prized possession of a wizard, and I did not have a proper wand of my own _for two years,_ while all of my other siblings got a proper wand. In fact, my parents knew that for the entire second year, my wand was in pieces, and yet, I didn’t get a new wand, which is quite a lot of neglect. And that is discounting everything else they _forgot_ to give me.” Molly and Arthur flinched violently at that, and Ron continued.

“Look, I've got _Albus Bloody Dumbledore_ on my side. Do you think I’m here for a joke or something?”

At this, there were several chuckles from the crowd, and even the judge was smiling. It made Ron’s confidence level increase, and brought a small smile to his face.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, do you deny what Ronald has said?”

There was silence for a few second, before Arthur answered. “No”, he said in a whisper. Just then, Molly Weasley burst into tears.

“I promise….we wanted to buy him a wand, but…we never got time or money for it!”, she sobbed out, and Ron felt a bit of hate bloom towards the woman, who was still making pathetic excuses.

“And yet, you found enough money to buy Ginny _a full set of robes, new wand, and potions kit?_ ”, he said, spitting out the last part with some serious contempt. He turned to the headmaster, and gave him a sharp nod which was returned.

The old wizard took out a vial of memories from his pocket, dipped his wand tip in it, and muttered some unknown incantation while waving his wand in the air.

Immediately, it was as if a screen had appeared in the air, and the memory began playing across the air. There was a picture of Ron along with his other sibling while he was in first year, and the contrast in the style of clothes was obvious. Then second year, and this time it was a picture of Ron and Ginny, both with their wands raised in the air.

It was clear that Ron was embarrassed at the state of his wand. Ginny’s looked perfectly new, while Ron’s was in two pieces, attached by a lone strand of unicorn hair which looked like it would snap any second. Even the robes were different, as it was obvious that Ginny’s were brand new, while Ron’s were tattered.

“This was a memory of my second year, and Ginny was in first. The difference is obvious.”, Ron said out aloud.

The memories kept scrolling until it reached the yule ball, and Ron had to hide his embarrassed blush at the image of past - Ron’s, _weak Ron’s_ garish robes displayed to the crowd.

“This was of the yule ball in fourth year, and do I even need to say anything? Look at the blatant partiality and neglect. Ginny has brand new robes, my brothers have second hand ones, but still good -looking robes, while my robes look like they have been taken from a dead body.”

This time there were no chuckles.

“The yule ball and Triwizard tournament were on of the most important moments of a student’s life, as you have to set an image for both yourself, your school, and your family at those events. And yet, look at what I had to wear! Isn’t it obvious yet?”, he asked, now much louder.

Next, it shifted to the night of the world cup attack. The entire court got to witness as Molly and Arthur Weasley didn’t give a damn about their son’s wellbeing.

“I believe it’s pretty obvious what’s being shown here. These two people who call themselves parents, went and embraced every single one of their other children, but forgot about their youngest son’s existence. Instead, they preferred Harry Potter and Hermione Granger as their children.”

At this, the memories came to a close, and his biological parents burst into tears. “Ron...we’re so sorry! Please give us a second chance”, his mother begged through tears, and Ron felt the anger in his chest bloom even brighter, spreading its toxic, yet addicting scent all over his mind, heart, and soul.

“Ron….please…please.” his father pleaded, just barely audible, but Ron didn’t care at that moment. He had dealt too long with their shit. 14 years to be exact, and it was time to move on.

“Ronald, your parents have promised that they will take better care of you. Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?”, the judge asked softly. Ron sent a sharp look towards the headmaster, who understood what he was about to do, and nodded his approval.

“Judge, I understand why you want this, but I don’t trust them anymore.” The words were like a bullet through Molly and Arthur’s hearts, causing them to flinch.

“Did you know that all that you saw was only part of the reason why I want an emancipation?”, he asked, silencing everyone.

The judge now leaned forward in his seat, intrigued at what other reason he could have. This was turning out to be quite an interesting trial.

“Now, I know a lot of you don’t believe that Voldemort” – flinches on cue. “Has returned, but I, along with the rest of my ‘family’ do believe so. Now, because of his return, a certain order of the phoenix decided that I was a bad influence on the boy who lived, and so they thought it would be a good idea to remove me from his company, until the dark lord was killed.”

“They had a vote…..and a majority voted for me to leave, and this included the members of my family who are a part of the order. I came to know of the news a week before the leaving feast, and turns out, even Harry Potter and Hermione Granger agreed with kicking me out.”

“So, if they are perfectly willing to just throw me out like that, why can’t I do the same? I want _nothing_ to do with these two anymore.”, he spat out, and the court was silent.

Ron had worded his thoughts carefully, so as not to give away any sensitive secrets (it was no secret that his parents were a part of the order), and all the people seated in the room wore wide eyes at his words.

After thirty second of doing nothing, the judge banged his gavel again. “Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Ronald, Mrs. Tonks, and Mr. Tonks, you may leave until we come up with a decision.

It took the judges 5 minutes and 43 seconds to come up with a decision, and Ron spent every second of those 338 seconds pacing outside the door fingers crossed, and hoping that he would win. To say that he was nervous would be an understatement, for pretty much his entire plan depended on this moment.

At last, after what felt like ages, millennia, to Ron, the door finally opened, and the group walked in, all of them shaking in fear and anticipation. Ron looked to Dumbledore, and the man had an expressionless look on his face, causing Ron’s heart to nearly stop beating in fear. _Wait he’s not happy, so that must mean……I failed._

The judge’s words simply passed through one ear and out the next, and Ron didn’t really pay attention to them, as he was still reeling from the idea of defeat. _No…I’ll have to go back and live with the Weasleys...no._

“ – and so, the court’s verdict is that, Ronald Billius Weasley, shall be emancipated from the Weasley family, and be known as Ronald Tonks, should you agree.”

“Yes, we agree.”, Ted and Andromeda said in unison.

 _WAIT WHAT!?_ _I WON?_

He turned around and his eyes met Dumbledore, who was grinning cheekily at him. The first words out of his mouth, before he could stop himself were, “OH, YOU ARE _SO_ DEAD, ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!”, and at that, the court actually began laughing.

Ron couldn’t believe it. He had _won!_ He was finally free from his family.

Andromeda and Ted came in front of him to give them their congrats, and Ron engulfed them in a huge hug. “Thank you.”, he mumbled into their backs with teary eyes, before they separated. Both of them looked a bit surprised at his open display of affection, and Ron chuckled before turning to Dumbledore, who was watching the scene with a slightly sad expression.

“I assume it will be a bit awkward if you hug me.”, he chuckled as Ron walked toward him. “Oh, shut up, old man.”, he said, before engulfing the headmaster in a hug as well. The man hesitated for a moment, before returning the embrace.

When he pulled away, he saw that the headmaster looked shocked, though his expression soon changed to one of ecstasy. Ron also noticed that the man had tears in his eyes, though he couldn’t fathom why.

“Thank you, Ronald.”, he whispered, and Ron looked at him in puzzlement. “Why, I sh –“, but Dumbledore silenced him by raising his hand. “No, I should be the one thanking you.”, he said in a kind, and genuinely grateful tone which left Ron baffled, but he decided to let it rest, and instead turned to Molly and Arthur Weasley.

His mother glared at him with bloodshot eyes, while his father sighed tiredly, before giving him a resigned smile. “Ron….I’m really sorry that we ….never treated you well enough, but please remember….that I am very proud of you, and if…you ever need help, all you need…is to ask.”, his father said with tears streaming down his face, and Ron felt his heart warm up at his sincerity.

“Thank you, dad, and I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I had to do this.”, he said. “Don’t worry, I understand why you did so.”

Suddenly, Ron had an idea, and without a word, rushed to Dumbledore. “Sir, could you make a portkey which is activated by a special word?”, he requested frantically.

Dumbledore’s eyebrows did rise, but he still made the portkey from a conjured matchbox in about 30 seconds, and Ron once again found himself wondering at the man’s power as he explained how it worked. It also required a drop of blood, which Ron willingly gave, before rushing to his biological father, and handed it to him.

“Dad, if you ever find yourself in a tough place, simply hold this portkey and say ‘Ronald Billius Weasley’, and it will take you to wherever I am as long as you desperately need me, even if there are anti portkey wards over the place, as long as you truly, desperately need help. So, if you want to meet me for a cup of tea, don’t use it. And if you ever need help, just call me.”, he said.

“Thank you, Ron.”, his father said, and Ron extended his hand for a handshake, which Arthur Weasley took.

That one action marked the complete transition of Ron over to the Tonks family, and he was glad that he had left at least his father on a good note. Ron hoped that his gift would let his father know that he was still willing to help him, and that it would come in useful someday.

He looked to his mother, who was still glaring at him angrily, so in response, he just rolled his eyes, before nodding at his father, and returning to his new family.

Everything was going to plan, and Ron was satisfied at last.

****************

Half an hour later, as he found himself making his way to the room of requirements, he suddenly heard a flutter of wings behind him, and whipped around to come face to face with an energetic pigwidgeon, which was heading straight for his face.

“Hey – hey – hey! What are you doing here, you little bugger?”, he laughed as he caught the fur - ball with his right hand and removed a letter tied to its leg.

“Sorry, but I don’t have any food right now.”, he said, and he was positive that the bird grumbled at him before flying away to the burrow. _Huh, wonder why Ginny would send me a letter._

As he read the letter, his eyes kept widening in surprise, and by the end, he was nearly crying from joy.

_Hey, Ron, you prat._

_So…hope you’re doing alright over there at Hogwarts, and please don’t tell me you’ve broken any more aurors' legs. Anyways I wanted to send you this letter to tell you about everything that happened today._

_So, firstly, Hermione found the ministry letter and opened it in front of all of us. Damn…never thought you’d go so far as emancipation, but then, can’t really blame you now, can I?_

_That last letter you left, it truly …..put some things in perspective, I can’t believe how much of a spoilt brat I was at that time, and damn, how could I never have seen how bad you used to feel. I should have done something to help you._

_Anyways, after she opened it, everyone else was positively livid at you, and I won’t deny it, I too was shocked. But then I remembered about how you helped me …..after the chamber, and I thought about your scars._

_Ron, tell me one thing. I don’t believe for a second that all of those scars were from fighting, so please tell me the truth. If you’re harming yourself, please go talk with Dumbledore. McGonaggal, or hell, even Snape will work! But please, don’t harm yourself._

_So, back to the story. After that, they looked like they were ready to kill you when they saw you again, so I, ummmm, sort of told them what happened after the chamber, including what I did. But it still did yield results! Those guys seriously calmed down, and looked guilty, after which I gave some really epic speech and left in a huff._

_So, don’t do anything stupid, write back soon, and hope to see you soon as well! Oh, and please hex Snape while you’re at it for me._

_Your beautiful, noble, hot, sexy, sister; Ginny_

_(note, if I see you having a hard on at those parting words I’m gonna castrate you.)_

Ron couldn’t help the tears which fell down his eyes, and nor could he stop the laughter which bubbled out of his throat at the letter. It was just so… _Ginny_ , that it warmed him to the core.

He couldn’t believe that his sister did all this just for him, including showing them her scars, and he was truly grateful to her, and felt his love for Ginny increase in his heart. Making a split second decision, he knew exactly what he was going to do the next morning.

****************

The next morning, an hour after breakfast, he found himself in Dumbledore’s office, looking into the green fireplace. “So, I see you’ve finally decided to make up with your sister, Ronald.”, he said happily.

“Yeah, made up more or less that day in Diagon Alley itself.”, he said. “I see. Good luck, Ronald.”

“Thanks, headmaster. Oh, and I will get to the bottom of that thank you in court yesterday.”, he said, before walking into the flames and shouting, “12 Grimmauld Place!”

As he stumbled out of the fireplace, he found himself popping out onto a very embarrassing scene, of his very flustered adopted sister, very ….. _enthusiastically …._ snogging Remus Lupin.

Ron felt his face turn a bright red, and the tips of his ears become beacons of light in the darkness of the meeting room. Suddenly, Tonks noticed him, and with a loud yelp, covered herself up with her shirt. His ex-professor was looking at him with a horrified expression, and Ron had to suppress a chuckle at the scene,

“RON! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING HERE!”, Tonks shrieked. “A very good morning to you two lovebirds as well! Tell me, when’s the wedding?”, he joked cheerfully.

The couple flushed a bright red, and this time Ron did burst into giggles. “Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just here to meet Ginny. You two children can go on with your tomfoolery, though I will have to take off house points if you, er – cross certain limits!”, he said in his best impersonation of McGonaggal, causing Dora to burst into giggles.

Just then, he noticed that at the mention of wedding, a sad look overcame Lupin’s expression, and Ron couldn’t fathom why the werewolf would feel sad while snogging (and maybe more) such a wonderful woman.

 _Wait, werewolf. Oh…so that’s the problem._ Ron hadn’t taken too long to figure out this, as he too had issues with insecurities, constantly telling himself that he wasn’t good enough for Hermione

 _Well, those days are over. Now she’s the one not good enough for me._ , he thought darkly.

He didn’t know why he did it, maybe it was just a sudden burst of kindness and compassion brought forth by his good mood, but he put a comforting hand on Lupin’s shoulder.

“Listen, Lupin, I won’t lie and say that I’m your biggest fan after what you did to me” at the mention of the meeting, he flinched violently, but Ron just continued on. “But it’s obvious that little Dora, a person whom I like quite a lot (he ignored her protests) here like you a lot, maybe even loves you. So, don’t let your furry little problem come in the way of it, for you might never get another chance at love.”

Lupin just looked at him as if he was an alien, causing Ron to sigh. “I’m speaking from experience, and Dora is like a sister to me, so I don’t want her to get hurt.”, he said, before exiting the room, leaving behind a contemplative Remus Lupin, and a bewildered but grateful Tonks.

As he walked up the stairs, he was surprised to see that there was no one out of their rooms, and he reached the bedroom which looked like it was Ginny and Hermione’s without any interruption. The door opened, to his bad luck, to reveal a frazzled looking Hermione, who no doubt had been helping Ginny in her homework.

She gave a squeak of surprise, before her glare quickly turned cold. “What do you want, Mr. Tonks.”, she said frostily, emphasizing the last words. “I would like to talk to Ginny, _Granger_ ”, he said in an equally cold tone, and was pleased to see that she flinched.

Suddenly, there was a squeal of surprise and joy from behind her, and his sister came barreling into his arms. “Ron! What on earth are you doing here!”, she shrieked after pulling away, beaming at him.

“Oh, I just wanted to talk to you”, he responded, smiling genuinely at her. “Come on, let’s go the library.”, he suggested.

Soon the brother – sister duo found themselves in the library, and Ron quickly cast the silencing and locking charms on the door before turning to a perplexed Ginny. “Alright, what’s going on?”, she asked.

“Gi – “

“Actually, scratch that. First, I have to ask you, are those scars really self-inflicted?”, she asked worriedly. “Yes”, Ron sighed out, but before his sister could say anything, he hit her with a silencer.

“Listen Ginny, I have a lot of things to clarify with you.”, he said, and his sister finally stopped shaking her fists at him angrily. Ron removed the silencer, and Ginny immediately burst forth, “What?”

“So, I have a lot to explain……”

**************

15 minutes later, he was on his chair, staring at his sister who had an unreadable expression on her face, as she contemplated what he had just told her, and Ron couldn’t really blame her if she wanted to slap him at that moment.

Then, out of nowhere, a hand slapped his right cheek, _hard,_ causing his head to whip to the left. As he slowly lifted a hand to check the extent of the injury, and could feel the mark already reddening and swelling a bit as well. Strangely, he didn’t feel any anger at her for what he did, as he had put her too through all that angst, even though she had always been on her side.

“That one was for putting me through all of that pain.”, she whispered in a voice that was very not Ginny – like. Then, he was caught off guard again as she held him tightly in a bone crushing hug.

“And that’s for being alright, you bloody prat.”, she wept into his chest, and Ron too felt happy tears come into his eyes. Their brother sister relation had always been queer, with them showing love for each other by insulting the other, and Ron had to chuckle at her.

But as she pulled away, she had a serious look back on. “Wait, so how did you get all those scars?”, she asked while biting her upper lip. “Er – I sort of stopped healing the injuries I received while dueling the dummies I told you about.”, he mumbled.

This time, he received a punch (though not too hard) in the stomach, and he bent over, gasping for air. Merlin, Ginny had some hard knuckles. “Promise me, that you’re never going to be doing that ever again!”, she demanded loudly.

“Yeah, yeah, I swear! Hell, this is the second time I’m doing this.”, he said through chuckles. “Wait, so is this what you talked to Sirius about that day?”, she asked as he straightened himself.

Ron nodded in response. “Now, I’m pretty sure that Sirius told him that you were going too far with revenge, which was why you left in a bad mood.”, she said and Ron raised his eyebrows. _Didn’t know she could be this perceptive._

“Uh – huh”

“Well, I’m not going to be giving you any of that shit. They deserved it for all they did to you, and I’m with you on this, but I hope you treated dad well. He didn’t vote in the meeting.”, she said threateningly, and Ron smiled at the vengeful Ginny who had turned Fred and George’s hair pink as revenge for pranking her.

“Yeah, I gave him a gift as well after the trial yesterday; an emergency portkey which would take him to me if he wanted help.”, he answered, and Ginny nodded in approval.

With that, Ron got up and removed the charms on the door, before walking out with Ginny at his side. As they walked down, Ron suddenly felt a _very_ powerful stinging hex hit him in the bum, and he yelled in pain and surprise. “WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME WAS THAT FOR?”, he bellowed as he turned to face a devilishly smirking Ginny. “Well, remember the stinging hex you hit me with that day?”, she asked, that goddamn smirk never leaving her face, and Ron groaned in realization and pain. _Never should have forgotten that Ginny was in one of her vengeful moods._

As they reached the meeting room, this time he saw that all the Weasley children, along with Dora, Remus, Harry, Hermione, and Sirius were present, and all the children were glaring at him.

Ron simply smirked in response, before turning to Ginny, and saying loud enough for everyone to hear, “Hey Ginny, I forgot to mention, I caught Remus and Dora snogging _very_ enthusiastically when I popped out of the fireplace. Do keep an eye on them, and also keep reminding our ex professor not to let his insecurities come in the way of his love.”

He relished in the flabbergasted expression on all the children’s and Sirius’s faces, and chuckled at Remus’s and Dora’s tomato red faces.

He hugged Ginny tightly, before entering the fireplace, and shouting his destination. As he spun in the flames, he could hear Sirius making catcalls and singing, “REMUS AND DORA, SITTING IN A TREE! F – U – C – K - I – “, before he was shut up by Remus.

He stumbled out onto Dumbledore’s office, right on his sore arse. _Merlin! I’ll have to ask Dumbledore to heal that. How embarrassing!_

“So, I assume your meeting with your sister went to plan?”, he asked amusedly from his chair.

“Yes, Professor. Er – “, he stuttered, blushing in embarrassment from the request he was about to make, when suddenly, the older wizard pointed his wand at Ron and healed him wordlessly.

“Wh - how?”, he said, stumbling over his own words. “You winced when you stumbled out of the fireplace”, the headmaster chuckled.

“Thank you, professor.”, he said, ears burning in embarrassment. “Don’t worry.”, he responded, waving away the red head.

As Ron walked out of the door, he was suddenly interrupted by the headmaster’s voice. “Oh, and Ron? When we’re alone, please call me Albus.”

“Alright then…..Albus.”, he said with a grin, before exiting the room. _Hmmm….Albus,_ he thought, wondering how it would feel to call the headmaster by his first name. Strangely, the thought filled him with warmth, and he walked the rest of the distance to the Room of Requirement with a cheerful skip to his gait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, one more chapter - the emancipation, mostly, but it's a bit all over the place. Also, this one's extra long, because this fic just crossed a hundred hits! Yay!  
> Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, you guys have no idea how happy they make me when I read them.  
> Anyways, here's your fic for the day -  
> In search of Hermione - Azalea Blue  
> Romance, once more, but I couldn't help it! It was just way too good!  
> As usual, please review, subscribe, leave kudos, but mostly, just hope you enjoy this fic!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I need to stop forgetting to add the disclaimer!  
> Anyways, Harry Potter isn't my property, and I don't wish to make any money from this work of fiction.  
> There!

Chapter 6: A new beginning

Harry Potter’s POV

As Harry sat in his compartment with Hermione, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something different. Then, he remembered that ‘Oh! Ron isn’t my friend anymore!’, and he could feel tears prickling at his eyes.

Thing had changed so much, and so quickly….too quickly for Harry’s liking. Hell, things never should have changed in the first place! He could only remember two other times that his life had been flipped over so badly. First when he found out that he was a wizard, second, that night in the graveyard when Voldemort came back, and third, two days ago, when he realized that Ron was lost to him.

Forever.

Forever…the word tasted strange and bitter on his tongue. Normally, forever meant the beginning of something good – a friendship to last forever, a marriage to last forever, peace reigning forever. But to Harry, the word was like a curse, an unforgivable curse worse than _Avada Kedavra_ and more painful than _Crucio._

Because Ron was lost forever to him.

F – O – R – E – V – E – R

They had been through so much together. He was his first ever friend, the only person willing to treat that waif like child with broken glasses and messy black hair, like a _friend_ , or a human being instead of some sort of god, just because his mother had died for him.

Ron had inevitably saved both his and Hermione’s lives that night in the bathroom with his levitation charm, had sacrificed himself so that _he,_ Harry, could have gone on to retrieve the stone, who had gone into the forest with him to stop the basilisk attacks, had rescued him from privet drive _on a freaking flying car!_ In third year, he was the one who’d held back Harry from going after Sirius Black, a supposed murderer, and had stood in front of them with a shattered leg.

Fourth year was the only time their friendship had waivered, and even then, he had come back immediately after the first task, enquiring after his wellbeing. Even when he had thrown the badge on his head, he had not even raised his voice. And after all of that, Harry had just thrown him away.

 _Like a rotting branch._ , his mind supplied, quoting Ron.

Ron had been the one thing Harry would have missed the most, and it turned out, that the judges were true. Harry was in fact missing Ron, but he still hadn’t sent as much as a letter of apology to him.

 _Cause you’re a coward, who is afraid of facing him,_ his mind taunted. Harry didn’t even try to deny the accusation.

As he looked at the empty seat in front of him, he could almost imagine a laughing, lanky, red headed boy, his azure eyes twinkling at some joke he had just shared, making both him and Hermione laugh.

But now, instead of that, there was just the plain color of the Hogwarts express seat. No one to make them laugh, to make them _live_ their lives instead of simply surviving. No one who would devour every single sweet within an arm’s length voraciously, who would make Hermione scold him. No one to beat Harry in wizard’s chess all the time, or to punch Malfoy in the face when he got too close.

No one. Nothing.

Nothing, that was exactly what that place in his heart was like. Empty. Filled with nothingness. No laughter, joy, fun. Yes, Neville was a good friend, but he just wasn’t Ron. He couldn’t make them laugh, and hadn’t spent four years of adventures with them.

He couldn’t fill the empty space in his heart.

The journey to Kings Cross had been quiet, and even now, as the three children sat in their compartment, none of them had uttered a word in an hour. Normally, Ron would have been the one to break the silence, but he wasn’t there with them now.

Suddenly, the door to their compartment slid opened, and Harry turned with blank eyes to see the oddest girl he had ever seen.

She was about Hermione’s height, had long, dirty blonde hair which came down till her waist. She was holding an…upside down? Magazine in her hands, and was wearing a necklace made of….butterbeer corks. She had a pale complexion, and her eyes were stormy grey and seemed to perpetually lost in a dreaming state. Actually, she herself seemed to just radiate dreaminess.

“Hello, I’m Luna Lovegood.”, she introduced herself in a dreamy, airy voice. “May I sit here?”, she asked.

“Luna!”, Neville greeted enthusiastically (He’d come back from the prefect meeting a few minutes ago. Harry hated himself for feeling envious of the boy), beckoning her to the seat beside Hermione. As she sat, she looked straight at Harry, and her eyes seemed to bore straight to his soul and thoughts.

“You have a lot of Wrackspurts floating around you, Harry.”, she said in that same dreamy tone, as if she wasn’t really paying attention to him. Harry was perplexed. _What? What in merlin’s name are wrackspurts?_

“Er – what are wrackspurts, Luna?”, he asked, but before she could answer, Hermione cut in. “Oh, there’s nothing called Wrackspurts!”, she said exasperatedly, in the same tone that she used when arguing with Ron about something. However, Harry was curious to know, as this was the first interesting thing that had happened since Ron left, the first thing which seemed might it might invigorate his mind and heart.

“Wrackspurts are these invisible creatures which float around your head, and when they enter your brain, they make your head go all fuzzy, as if you’re thinking very deeply about something.”, she explained intently. Though Harry didn’t believe that Wrackspurts existed, she was right about him thinking deeply about something, and Harry wondered if she could actually read his mind.

“Hey, where’s Ronald? I didn’t see him anywhere on the train, and isn’t he always with you both?”, she asked, oblivious to the tension in the air. Immediately, it was as if the temperature in the compartment dropped 15 degrees, and Harry once again retreated into his little bubble.

“H – We aren’t friends with him anymore.”, Hermione said stiffly, forcing out the words from her lips. Luna seemed very taken aback with this information, but her expression quickly turned somber.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Harry, Hermione.”, she said, not wanting to prod any more.

She stayed with them for the rest of the trip, and the four made idle talk. Occasionally, there was laughter, but even that sounded foreign to their ears. It was like the laughter had left their lives along with Ron.

They found out more about Luna, like the fact that she was a 4th year Ravenclaw, and that people called her Loony Lovegood (Harry could clearly see why, but that didn’t mean that he supported them)

At long last, they arrived at Hogsmeade station and made their way to the carriages, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Luna. However, when they reached the carriages, Harry stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide in shock and a bit of fear.

He had always thought that the Hogwarts carriages were pulled by magic, but there, right in front of his eyes, he could see a black, skeletal horse with wings, tethered to the carriage. Its bones could clearly be seen through its black, leathery skin, he could almost see the blood pumping in its veins, and it had a sharp, beak like nose which looked like it could kill with a single strike. Harry had no doubt that this was a very dark creature.

“Harry, come here! What on earth are you staring at?”, Hermione called from where she was already seated on the carriage, annoyance and confusion written all over her face. Harry looked around to see if anyone else could see the horses as well, and to his shock, everyone else was just going along with their business like there was nothing there.

 _Wh- what? Am I going mad?_ Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Luna looking at him sadly. “Don’t worry, they’re thestrals, and they don’t mean any harm. And neither are you going mad.”, she said in a caring way.

“B – but then why can only I see them?”, he asked frantically. “No, they can only be seen by people who’ve seen death before.”, she said, and it clicked in Harry’s mind. Last year, he had seen Cedric die in front of his eyes at the graveyard.

“Neville and I can see them too, and it appears that Ronald can see them too”, she said, pointing to Ron, who was sitting in his carriage with three Slytherins, and was looking warily at his thestral.

Harry gulped, remembering that Ron had killed a person, before he got into his carriage along with Luna. “Why on earth were you staring at the air before the carriage, Harry?”, Hermione asked worriedly.

This time, it was Neville who explained. “They’re thestrals, and only people who’ve seen death can see them.”, he said, voice shaking only slightly. Hermione immediately got a sad look on her features.

“Whose death did you see, Neville, Luna?”, she asked softly as soon as the carriage started moving. “I er- saw my Grandfather die. He passed away peacefully, at an old age.”, Neville said.

“My mother died when I was 7.”, said Luna with a few tears in her eyes, but they were gone as soon as they had come. “Oh, and Hermione, it appears that Ronald was in fact on the train, and he too can see the thestrals.”, she said dreamily, pointing at where Ron’s carriage was now at a curve, giving them a clear view of his face.

Hermione whipped around as fast as a bullet, before she remembered that Ron wasn’t their friend anymore. Harry could see him talking with the three Slytherins animatedly, and it appeared that those three were laughing as well, causing a pang in Harry’s heart.

“Yes….he s – said that he….killed a person over the summer.”, Hermione stammered, clearly trying to stop tears. There was a gasp from Luna at this information, and Harry was surprised that she would tell this to Luna.

“Oh god!”, she exclaimed, hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. “I never thought that Ronald could do something like that.”, she whispered in shock.

“It was a death eater in France.”, Harry said curtly, in a tone which made it clear that he didn’t want any more words on the topic. The rest of the trip passed in silence until they reached the school.

As he, Neville, and Hermione entered the great hall and sat on the Gryffindor table, he could feel the disappointed stares of the teachers, and it made him shrink even further into himself. Suddenly, Ron came and slid in right in front of them with a lopsided grin on his face, which made his heart contract painfully in his chest. Previously, the smile would be directed at them, and would be a happy one, but now it looked mocking. Predatory.

“Hello!”, he greeted cheerfully, his eyes only on Neville. As Harry observed his features, he noticed several new additions, like the tiny scar on his right eyebrow, and the way he carried himself with confidence now. He noticed that his eyes were now a much lighter, colder shade, and his hair was a bit darker, reflecting his new personality. Dark, intimidating. Independent. Powerful.

Deadly.

“Why are you here?”, Neville asked in the coldest tone he could muster. “Oh, I just came here to congratulate you on becoming prefect!”, he said, completely ignoring Neville’s coldness, causing the other boy to be left speechless.

“I hope you’re a better prefect for Gryffindor that some _other_ people”, he said, making it clear who the other people were.

And just like that, without another word, he left them to go congratulate Fay Dunbar, who was still holding the prefect badge, seemingly unable to comprehend how she had become prefect.

Harry sighed in defeat and sorrow as the frightened first years came trudging into the hall. This was going to be one long and painful year.

******************

Ronald Tonks’s POV

He had already anticipated that the day would be interesting, but the excitement was starting much sooner than expected. First, the teachers had forced him to come to Hogwarts on train, instead of just waiting there (they said it was tradition, but Ron had already probably broken a billion traditions.), which was why he spent his time in the train practicing _imperipeltas._

Then, when he got off the train, he was met with the sight of huge, skeletal horses tied to the carriages, and Ron nearly jumped back in shock. Those things looked sinister. Then, three _Slytherins_ came and explained to him what they were, saying that they were thestrals and that they could be only seen by people who’d observed death.

Ron hadn’t seen anyone die, but he assumed that those with thestral hair cores could also see them. He found out that their names were Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott (and the unadded tidbit that the last two were a couple).

The three of them had been surprised that he, a Weasley in Gryffindor and a well - known friend of Harry Potter, would be talking civilly with three Slytherins, and would be away from him.

_“Well, let’s just say that we’re not friends anymore, and that I’ve a lot more surprises up my sleeve.”, he answered cryptically._

_“Hmmm…I’m liking this new you, Weasley. Wonder why you were a Gryffindor.”, said Davis with a smug smirk._

_“Let’s just say that I was stupid at the time. Now…I have experience.”, he replied with an equal smirk. Oh, was he looking forward to Slytherin house, if these three could be friends with him._

In the great hall he had gone and congratulated Neville and Fay, the latter who looked a bit flustered when he came and congratulated her.

_“B – but, I don’t understand why I, the shy, stupid, cowardly girl of Gryffindor was made prefect!”, she exclaimed with tears in her eyes, and Ron felt a tad guilty. After all, he too had ignored her for 4 years._

_“Listen, Fay.”, he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You might have been a shy girl once, but you’re not stupid, and nor are you cowardly, after all, you are a lion. Yes, others might taunt you, tease you, but it’s your responsibility to show them to never underestimate you.”, he said. He had a lot of experience with self doubt, but yet, here he was._

_She looked up at him with her cheeks a bit red, and nodded resolutely, and Ron knew that she would also try her best. With that, he sat down before her, waiting for the sorting to start._

_He could sense the stares he was receiving at his new robes, increased muscle, and the fact that he wasn’t sitting with Potter and Granger, and was instead with Fay. He could also see a lot of girls looking at Fay enviously, and he couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that he was being noticed._

_At one point, both Lavender and Parvati came and sat next to him as the sorting was going on, blatantly flirting (Ron typically wasn’t a guy who noticed girls paying attention to him, but there was a limit to his obliviousness as well. These two were bloody caressing his arms) with him, but he brushed them off. He had no interest in any romantic relations right now. He doubted he could even get into a romantic relation anymore._

Currently, the last few names were being called, and Ron was itching to start speaking. His heart was beating pretty fast, he was sweating a bit, and he had his fingers crossed under the table. At long last, the final name was called, and the new girl went over to the Hufflepuff table.

As the claps slowly subsided, he could see Dumbledore looking at him expectantly, and he took a deep breath before standing up. “I DEMAND A RE SORTING!”, he said, loud enough for the entire hall to hear.

He saw the eyes of all the uninformed teachers widened, and the toad like woman in the place of the DADA position staring at him. There were several gasps all over the hall, before they reduced to whispers. He could see the filthy looks the rest of the Gryffindors were giving him, but he ignored them.

“Do you have permission from your guardians, _child?_ ”, toad woman said, spitting out the last word insultingly, causing a flower of anger to start blooming in his heart.

“Of course!”, he responded with false cheer, before looking at Andromeda and Ted, both of whom had attended the feast.

“Yes, Andromeda and I, as legal guardians of Ron, have given him permission to demand a re sorting.”, Ted said cheerfully, causing several jaws to drop all over the hall.

“Oh, and in case you need the emancipation files, here they are.”, he said, while floating over the files which he had in his pocket, to toad woman. “The trial was held two days ago, so I don’t think it’s even necessary to read them.”, he informed as she glared at the ministry seal on the files.

By now, the whispers had grown loud, enough to create a sort of dramatic backdrop to the event, and Ron was doing nothing to stop them. People were also beginning to stare at his biological siblings. The twins were giving him the filthiest looks possible, while Ginny was just staring at him happily (though with a bit of shock).

“Alright, Mr.…Tonks, you may have a re sorting.”, the woman said, as if saying anything to benefit him would hurt her physically. He smirked at her, before walking over to the stool and putting on the sorting hat. The moment he did, all outer sounds were cancelled, and he was engulfed by the familiar feel of the sorting hat’s inner lining. _Wait, that sounded very wrong._

_Ah…a re sorting! First time that’s happened in a long time. And also, yes, Mr. Tonks, that did sound disgusting._

_Hello to you too, sorting hat! So, which house do you think I’m going to? Also, sorry for that thought._

The sorting hat was in a dilemma. He had seen Ronald’s memories, and couldn’t deny the darkness which had been unleashed. Normally, he would have put him in Hufflepuff where he knew it wouldn’t be allowed to grow, but the problem was, that in Hufflepuff, he would simply become like a cornered animal, and would lash out dangerously.

Ravenclaw wasn't a good choice either, for in the house of Rowena, hyperrationality was a very probable outcome, especially for someone like Ron. People really didn't understand how dangerous hyperrationality could be. But, then again, most of them didn't know either that if Gellert Grindelwald had attended Hogwarts, he'd have been sorted into Ravenclaw for his strictly rational outlook oon the world, without any regard for the emotions and opinions of the people.

Here was where the dilemma lay, as Ronald wasn’t strictly dark. He was more of a perfect blend of the two. Light and Dark. Good and Evil. The hat saw how he had pretty much used Psychological warfare on his family and friends, but had also seen, how close he had grown to the teachers, how he had helped Remus Lupin, a man who had pretty much flipped over his life, and how he had genuinely meant the words he had exchanged with Fay Dunbar.

It took him a minute to decide where he would go, until he finally came to a conclusion.

He just hoped that the child would not go on Tom Riddle’s path.

_You do have bravery, which such an elaborate plan requires, but you have no wish to become a Gryffindor. You have begun to work hard, but you will never regain the loyalty you had before. You have intelligence, but do not learn just for the sake of acquiring knowledge._

_However, you are an excellent fit for Salazar’s house. You have cunning, determination, tons of ambition, and a deep sense of fraternity towards those you care for, characteristics which point only on house._

_Which house, Slytherin?_

_\- However, never forget your Gryffindor roots. You'll need it._

_but -_

_Y_ _ou better be -_

“SLYTHERIN!”, the hat bellowed out for everyone to hear. Ron removed the hat and summoned the papers from the hands of a flabbergasted Dolores Umbridge, and calmly made his way to the Slytherin table.

“Oh, and I’d also like to change my electives to Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Dueling.”

The entire hall was silent, everyone simply staring at him in too much shock to even speak, until applause slowly started. The first ones to clap were Snape, Dumbledore, Davis, Greengrass, Fay, Ginny and Nott. Slowly, more people started clapping. Though not many applauded him, he took joy in the knowledge, that those who did clap, were clapping from appreciation, and not just because it was needed.

As he made his way to the Slytherin table, he could hear derogatory whispers coming from mainly the Gryffindor table.

“Traitor.”

“How could that bastard do this to us!”

“I always knew that he would eventually snap at Harry and Hermione, the jealous prick.”

He wouldn’t deny it, the whispers cut as much as the derisive words of the Slytherins who didn’t accept him, if not more, but he wouldn’t show it to the outside world. He had been through so much, so why would he bow before a bunch of children! Let them talk, he didn’t care one bit, and he would hold his head high!

On the staff table, he didn’t notice as Andromeda Tonks looked at him with a fiercely proud expression, as she saw how he held his head high, even in the toughest of times, not caring about the others insulting him. He kept walking on. A true Black, if she’d ever seen one.

Suddenly, Ron felt a searing sensation, right over his heart, and he fell down on one knee in pain. It was like someone was pressing a white hot iron into his chest, exactly like how it felt when Fred and George had burnt a hole into his tongue.

Before that burning could stop, he felt another, similar form of pain, this time on the right part of his chest, and he had to bite his tongue so hard that it drew blood, not to scream.

He could hear shrieks from all over the hall, and he didn’t even see Dumbledore, Ted, and Andromeda run towards him, as he fell to the ground in a fetal position, as the same pain was inflicted on his back, right at the bottom of his neck this time.

He could feel someone writing something on his back, and it hurt so much that he saw stars, but he was determined not to scream. _WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME IS GOING ON? IS THIS SOME SORT OF PUNISHMENT? WELL, FUCK YOU WHOEVER IS DOING THIS!_

Suddenly, as soon as it had started, the pain stopped, and he slowly, tentatively opened his eyes, only to see that he was surrounded by some sort of black and blue bubble of pure magic.

As he slowly got up, his back still burning, he heard a pop, and noticed that a ring had just appeared on his right index finger. He didn’t notice that the rest of the hall could also see the bubble, and nor did he notice Andromeda’s open mouth, as she tried to comprehend whether what she was seeing was really happening. The bubble around Ron wasn’t allowing anyone to enter, but if it did, Andromeda would be holding Ron tight in ecstasy and joy.

Ron watched in amazement as the magic around him shifted to form the words “DRINK IT”, written in a beautiful, cursive script.

He suddenly heard a whirring sound from his right hand, and he lifted his hand to see that the ring had opened up, and a vial of black liquid was floating in front of him.

It looked like it might have been poisonous, but he didn’t care. He was never one to back away from a challenge or a mystery, and so, before he could talk himself out of doing it, he picked it out of the air, and downed it in one gulp.

The moment it entered his mouth, he nearly vomited at the foul taste. It tasted like snake skin mixed with dung and old smelly socks, which wasn’t even supposed to be _legal_. As he swallowed it, Ron had to resist the urge to gag.

But then, the strangest thing happened. As he started to swallow, the taste of the potion changed into the most delectable thing he had ever tasted. It was like every sweet, every single one of his mother’s dishes, hell, the best element of every dish of the world, combining to form the best tasting thing that had ever been made. As Ron lapped up the last drops of it, he found himself already missing the taste in his mouth.

Suddenly, the bubble of magic around him imploded with a flash, and before he could even comprehend what was going on, Andromeda barreled into him, and hugged him so tightly that Molly Weasley would feel jealous.

“And…romeda! I…can’t…..breathe!”, he gasped out and his mother finally released him. Once Ron had caught his breath, he asked the question that had been burning in his mind.

“Alright, what one earth just happened?”, he asked to no one in particular. “Check the brandings on your chest, Ron.”, replied Andromeda, and it was clear that everyone was just as confused as to why she would be glad that he had been branded.

Ron tore down the right side of his shirt, revealing the text printed on his chest. “Why in Merlin’s name is _Toujours Pur_ printed on my chest?”, he asked after a moment of trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

At once, there were multiple gasps from all over the hall, most of them coming from the purebloods, Slytherins, and teachers. “Check the tattoos over your heart as well.”, she said calmly.

This time, his shirt revealed a family crest of sorts over his heart, and it did nothing but make Ron more confused. “That…that’s the black family crest.”, Dumbledore whispered from beside Andromeda.

“Ron, could you turn around for a moment?”, asked Andromeda, and he quickly turned around. He could hear her ripping down his shirt to reveal the branding on his back, and there were more gasps. He even saw one of the Slytherin girls fainting in shock.

“Ronald Alphard Black…”, whispered Andromeda, and Ron had a distinct feeling that something was going on. It almost sounded like he had been …..adopted into the …Black family. With a flick of her wand, she repaired his clothes, before turning him around, and raising his hand to examine the ring on his index finger.

Ron noticed that it had the same family crest as that on his chest, and was sure that all his brandings and the ring had something to do with the Black family.

Er – Andromeda, could you please tell me what’s happening here?”, he asked, bursting with curiosity. “I…I thought it was just a myth.”, breathed Andromeda, before a tap on her arm from Ron broke her out of her reverie. Ron was curious, the students were in shock, and Dumbledore, Hermione, and the Ravenclaws’s eyes were twinkling were curiosity.

“Now”, Andromeda started. “You all know that I was previously a member of the Black family and as a child, I used to be very interested in lore. Once, my mother told me of a sort of ritual, which was rumoured to happen when a person who was the perfect candidate to become the new lord of House Black was found.”, she explained looking at Ron with a smile.

“What happened in this ritual was that three brandings would appear on the person’s torso of the Black motto, crest, and the person’s new name as lord of house black. He would receive the black lordship ring, and a potion would appear from it, which would supposedly give the person the ability to speak Parseltongue.”

This was just way too much information for Ron. Him, as the lord of House Black? No…it couldn’t be possible! Sirius was the last person with the title of Black, and he should have been the lord of house Black! And besides, how could you trust just a myth?

“B – but, isn’t the heir always the eldest son of the previous lord? And besides, I don’t believe in blood supremacy, so how can I be….Lord Black?”, he asked disbelievingly.

“Well…..you do have some black blood in you, as Cedrella Black married into the Weasley’s, and about the blood purity…..you’re a pureblood, so that’s all that matters for the motto. But I guess there’s only one way to find out.”, she said devilishly.

 _Oh no, something’s happening._ And before Ron could as much as say a word, she waved her wand in an S – shape and incanted _‘Serpensortia!’_. At once, a formidably sized snake popped out from her wand, landing right in front of him, and Ron had his wand out in a second. There were a few screams from across the hall, but Ron didn’t pay attention to them, as he was having a staring contest with the serpent before him.

 _Sssssss! Who daressss ssssumonnnn usssss!_ , the snake hissed, and Ron had to blink. _Wait, what?_

 _Err, hello?_ , he hissed tentatively, not noticing the beams he was receiving from Andromeda and Ted.

The snake looked taken aback at him conversing with it. _A sspeaker? I have never meeeet one! ,_ it hissed in response _. Now, why have you ssssumoned me here?_

 _Would you, umm, like to go home?,_ he hissed, having no idea what sort of a conversation he could have with a bloody snake. And besides, the students looked ready to have a fear induced heart attack

_ I would enjoy talking to you, but yesss, I would also want to go back to my family. _

_ Well then, its been nice getting to know you. Bye!  _

And with that, Dumbledore vanished the snake with another flick of his wand and a _‘Vipera Evanesco’_. Ron raised an eyebrow at the headmaster, wondering how he had figured when the conversation had ended.

“You were waving at it, and in case you’re wondering, I sent it back to wherever it came from.”, he said, and Ron’s cheeks burned a bit in embarrassment. _Damn...there goes the lord of Black look._

“So, I guess it’s true. I am …Lord Black, just find it pretty tough to believe, you know.”, he stuttered, thinking about what to say. Out of nowhere, Malfoy yelled over the teachers.

“THAT’S NOT POSSIBLE!”, he shrieked. “I – I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE NEXT BLACK LORD! HOW CAN THIS – THIS BLOOD TRAITOR EVER BE LORD BLACK!”

As soon as those words were out of his mouth, Ron was in front of him, his hands planted firmly on the table before him, face inches from Draco Malfoy’s. He could see the fear in those usually cocky grey ones, and he relished in it.

“Listen here, _Draco._ ”, he said in a cold whisper that could be heard by everyone in the room. “I’ll agree, even I had no idea that I would be named Lord Black, however…if you ever as much as _dare_ to call anyone a Blood Traitor or a ….Mudblood, I’ll make both you, and you’re entire family pay. Because, as far as I know, the house of Black is much, much richer and powerful than house Malfoy, so you do know what will happen, don’t you, _Draco?_ ”, he said, running a finger along Draco’s cheek in a deadly caress, not too dissimilar to what Voldemort would do to those whom he tortured personally.

“Have I made myself clear?”, he barked causing the blonde to flinch, before he nodded in fear. “Good, you better watch your mouth around not only me, but anyone else, _Draco._ ”

With those words, he raised himself, and was back again to his previous self. “Erm – Andromeda? Even though this branding says that I am named Ronald Alphard Black, I would prefer to change the last part to Ronald Alphard Tonks – Black.”, he said.

“Oh, son, it’s not needed!”, Ted insisted, but Ron wouldn’t do listen. “No, I will do so. You both took me in, even when there was nothing forcing you to, so this is the least I could do.”, he said, finality in his tone, and Ted wiped a tear from his eye at the respect his family was getting.

“Thank you, so I guess we’ll have to continue with the speech, but more importantly, the food then?”, he said, causing Dumbledore to chuckle. “Yes, Mr.…Black, we will have to, and the food! Most definitely the food!”

Ron smiled at Albus, before he made his way to sit with Tracey, Daphne, and Theodore, who were staring at him with an open jaw. Ron could hear the not so soft whispers of awe following him around, the stares on him, and he smirked at the attention he was receiving.

As he plunked down next to them, he realized that he now had a lot more money, influence, a wizengamot seat, and property, but that was all for later. For now, he had to collect some winnings.

“Pay up, the three of you.”, he said while smirking smugly at his three new friends. Grumbling under their breath, they handed him 2 Galleons each, and he thought he heard someone whisper “Smug Bastard.”, but he couldn’t care less.

The excitement was 10 times more than he had expected and the show wasn’t even over yet.

“Hey, I should warn you, the show isn’t over yet!”, he said to the other three, causing them to groan, but wait in anticipation nonetheless.

As he saw the headmaster head up for his speech, he had only 1 thought on his mind.

Life, apparently, was a fickle thing. One second it gave him lemons, an the next, he’s Lord Black. Though, he couldn’t deny the fact that life’s unpredictability was pretty exciting.

**************

Hermione Granger’s POV

Her jaw was open, and she didn’t care, because everyone on the Gryffindor table had the same reaction. First, Ron openly declared the emancipation, then got resorted to _Slytherin_ of all houses, and now, he could speak Parseltongue and was Lord Black! Things were just happening to fast for her to comprehend.

Suddenly, she felt a hand pushing her jaw up, and turned to see Harry staring at her with wide eyes, just as shocked as she was. “Do you think this was orchestrated?”, Hermione asked, though she doubted her words.

“No”, Harry said, shaking his head. “The parseltongue was all genuine.”

Hermione simply leant back at these words, wondering if Ron would ever stop surprising them, for now, not only was he Lord Black, but he would also technically be related to Sirius, which Harry would no doubt not like too much.

For the first time in forever, she found herself not paying attention to the Headmaster’s speech, and her ears only perked up he came to the part about the new subjects.

“Now, I’d like to introduce the teachers of our new subject; Healing. Please, welcome Ted Tonks, Andromeda Tonks, and Poppy Pomfrey!”, Dumbledore said, calling the three new teachers to stand up.

There were cheers from all over the hall, and Ron even whistled, causing the three to blush, until everyone finally calmed down, waiting for the net part.

“Now, I know that in the letter, it was promised that we would reveal the name of the mysterious person, and I promise we will, but first, I’d like to hear you guesses.!”

At once, the air was filled with shouts, and Hermione could just make out the names of Dumbledore and the minister of magic, until the wizard silenced everyone with a few purple firecrackers.

“Well”, he said, beaming at the crowd. “I could only pick out my own name, Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy, and Cornelius Fudge, however…..it is none of the above.”

At once, the hall went silent in surprise, waiting for the reveal. _Who could have done this?_

“The mysterious person is……RONALD TONKS – BLACK!”, Dumbledore announced, and for the fourth time in one hour, Hermione’s jaw hit the ground in shock.

“Ronald stayed with us in the school over the summer, and he convinced me to reinstate these two subjects, so I would like a round of applause for Ronald!”

This time, the claps from the students were a lot more genuine, and even the Gryffindors were clapping as they were excited for dueling. However, Hermione’s mind was not in the hall. She was still reeling from the headmaster’s words.

_Ron…Ron stayed here over the summer….all of that was a lie….he was never attacked by death eaters…Dumbledore told him about the Fidelius. Tonks knew._

_THAT FUCKING LIAR!_

How could he do this to them? Did he have no idea how much his story had hurt her, how it had made her simply want to drown herself to forget the guilt? How much more would she have to pay for one mistake?

_I AM SO GOING TO KILL HIM!_

After Dumbledore, the new teacher spoke, but Hermione wasn’t even listening to her, as she was too busy glaring daggers at the red head on the Slytherin table. Because how could he?

When the food arrived, she totally forgot table manners for once, and stabbed her piece of chicken with so much force that the plate shattered, causing several people to scoot away from her in fear. A random piece of cutlery near her shattered, but she didn’t even notice it.

As soon as the feast was over, she saw Ron leaving the hall at the end of his line, talking as if _absolutely nothing was wrong!_ With his new friends.

Without as much as thinking, she stomped up to the red head, and tapped him on the shoulder. The moment he turned around, her right hand flew ahead, and struck him across the face.

Hard.

This was even harder than she had hit Malfoy, so hard that it drew blood, but she didn’t care. She wanted him to hurt for how much he had hurt him.

She didn’t even notice as there were gasps from several students, or as his new friends stormed ahead, but were disarmed by Harry.

“HOW COULD YOU LIE TO US! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH YOU HURT ME! HOW MANY TIMES I WANTED TO SIMPLY DROWN MYSELF FROM GUILT BECAUSE OF YOUR FUCKING LIES, RONALD WEASLEY! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH, RONALD BLACK! YOU CAN GO HAVE YOUR MONEY AND FAME AND LORDSHIP, BUT I WILL ALWAYS HATE YOU!”, she screamed in his face, not giving a damn about her language.

Ron slowly raised a finger to his cheek, where there was a cut from Hermione’s nails hitting him. He had never though that Hermione would slap him some day, but here he was.

And it hurt more than he wanted to admit, because he just couldn’t help the flame he carried for her in his heart. But when she slapped him, she had crossed a line.

_HOW DARE SHE LECTURE ME ON WHAT’S RIGHT AND WRONG, AFTER BEING THE ONE WHO THREW ME AWAY LIKE GARBAGE!_

Suddenly, Hermione felt herself freeze in her spot, held in her place by invisible tendrils which were so tight that they burnt into her skin, and she knew there would be marks left behind.

And then, Ron looked at her, and her blood froze in her veins.

She could almost see his magic crackling around him, and she knew that he had tied her up, without as much as a wand. But what scared her was his face.

His skin was much paler than before, his hair seemed to be made of dark magic itself, and his eyes…his eyes were the coldest, most inhuman, most _monstrous_ blue she had ever seen and they made it clear that he would not hesitate to kill her.

She wondered if this was what Harry felt while facing Voldemort. Pure, unadulterated fear.

He slowly leant in, less than an inch away from her face, their noses almost touching, so close that she could kiss him if she was able to move a muscle. But instead of filling her with love, lust, and attraction like it usually would have done, as she stared into his eyes, she found herself unable to avert her gaze, and filled her with fear for her life.

And then he spoke, in a voice so low that only she could hear it, and it sent shivers of fear all over her body. She didn’t even realize that she had broken into a cold sweat.

“Listen here, _Hermione._ ”, he said, emphasizing her name in a grotesque way which almost spelt out her doom. “You, of all people, have no right to teach _me,_ the child whom you threw away in the middle of a war, about right and wrong.”

“I know I hurt you, and you know what? That was my intention. To _hurt_ you, to hurt you so bad that you would have scars for life. To hurt you so bad, that you would wake up screaming from nightmares. To hurt you. Just. Like. You. Hurt. Me.”, he said stopping after every word, and it sent goosebumps of fear up her skin.

She didn’t think it was possible, but he lowered his voice even more, and Hermione had to strain to hear him. “You know, let’s just keep this between you and me. Do you know, after you… _abandoned_ me, I wanted to die every single day, and the only thing keeping me alive was my thirst for vengeance? But even then, I almost killed myself…..6 times. 6 times I nearly killed myself, and every single time I ended up in the hospital wing. Alright, 5 of those times were due to magical exhaustion from dueling Albus, but yet, I never feared ending up in a coma, because I knew that it would never hurt as much as what _you_ did to me.”

“And you know, I wished for death every single time I ended up in the hospital wing, because it would finally bring me peace.”

Now, he leaned into her ear, and whispered in a nearly inaudible voice. “What I’m about to tell you, no one knows, and if anyone comes to know…I will have to kill you.”, and Hermione knew that he would make good on his promise.

“Once, I hit myself with a cruciatus curse, just because I thought I would stop my pain. It did…but only temporarily. That time when I was under the unforgivable, was the least pain I felt in all those two months.”

“Oh, and what I told you, no one gets to know. Also, don’t look into Albus’s and Snape’s eyes.” And with those final words, he drew back up, gave her one last look before storming out of the great hall towards where the prefect of Slytherin was, leaving behind a shaking and sobbing Hermione.

She had no idea that he had been hurt so much. She felt like a monster, and a demon, and a death eater and wanted nothing more than to go chase after him, beg him for forgivance. But she couldn’t move due to the weight of the guilt on her, bearing her down, crushing her.

She would have nightmares, but she wouldn’t tell anyone.

*****************

That night, as soon as Draco Malfoy arrived in his dorm, shaking from fear, he sent an urgent letter to his father.

_Father_

_I’m sending this letter urgently, and I’m keeping it as short as possible._

_Today during the feast, we found out that the youngest Weasley was emancipated from the Weasley family, and he got re - sorted into Slytherin. Also, he was the mysterious person in the letter._

_But the worst part, when he was walking over to our table, some sort of ritual happened, and the black lordship ring appeared on his finger. He had the black crest and logo branded on him, and he drank some potion which made him a parselmouth._

_In short, he is now Lord Ronald Alphard Black, as shown by the tattoo on his back._

_Also, he petrified the mudblood granger wandlessly and wordlessly, before reducing her to a shaking sobbing mess with just his words. He can also perform NEWT level disillusionment charms. He isn’t friends with Potter anymore._

He briefly considered adding the part about his eyes changing color, and how he too had been frozen by his eyes, but decided against it. It wouldn’t do for the heir of the Malfoy family to appear weak.

That didn’t change the fact that he had nightmares of those blue eyes that night.

****************

Lord Voldemort’s POV

Little did young Draco know, that there was an inner circle meeting that night in which his father was invited.

As the death eaters sat on a table in Riddle Manor, trembling under the dark lord’s blood red eyes as he tortured a muggle farmer simply for fun, a black falcon came flying into the room, landing in front of Lucius Malfoy.

The blonde man’s eyes grew wide in fear, as the owl interrupted the death eater meeting. “My lo – “

 _‘Crucio’_ , the high, cold voice of Lord Voldemort whispered, leaving Lucius writhing and screaming in pain on the floor.

“Oh, Lucius, haven’t you learnt that no one interrupts me when I’m having a meeting?”, the man – no, monster asked rhetorically, before he killed the bird in a burst of flame, but kept the letter intact.

“Corban, could you read this letter for us?”, he ordered, floating over the letter to Cornelius Nott, who grabbed it out of the air in a frantic, insane wish to please the dark lord, albeit only to prevent more torture at his hands.

“Yes! Yes, m’lord!”, he exclaimed before opening the letter with trembling fingers, an after effect of the Cruciatus.

“ _Father_

_I’m sending this letter urgently, and I’m keeping it as short as possible._

_Today during the feast, we found out that the youngest Weasley was emancipated from the Weasley family, and he got re sorted into Slytherin. Also, he was the mysterious person in the letter._

_But the worst part, when he was walking over to our table, some sort of ritual happened, and the black lordship ring appeared on his finger. He had the black crest and logo branded on him, and he drank some potion which made him a parselmouth._

_In short, he is now Lord Black._

_Also, he petrified the mudblood granger wandlessly and wordlessly, before reducing her to a shaking sobbing mess with just his words. He can also perform a NEWT level disillusionment charm. He isn’t friends with Potter anymore._

_Draco”_

When he finished the letter, he was shaking in an equal mixture of rage and shock of the _Black_ lordship being stolen by a blood traitor.

“Preposterous!”, he shrieked, but was silence by Voldemort without a wand.

As he read the letter for himself, he felt a surge of hate bloom within the pieces of his shattered soul, as he knew that the boy wasn’t lying. The blood traitor was in fact, Lord Black. After all, he too had tried to invoke that ritual as a youth, but had failed.

And if there was one thing that Lord Voldemort hated, despised, it was losing, especially to a blood traitor.

However, along with that anger, there was a bit of amazement and the sense of an opportunity waiting to be taken as well. Which 15 year old boy possessed enough power to bind a person wandlessly and wordlessly?

_Hmmmm….he also isn’t friends with that Potter Brat anymore, not to mention he seems to be quite powerful, and terrifying enough to be able to reduce a person to tears with only words._

“I want you to find out more about Ronald Black. I want him on our side. He’ll be a pretty useful tool against the Light.”

“But lord! What if he won’t join us willingly?”, asked Goyle from the shadows.

“Kill him. In the end, he’s just a blood traitor, though I would like to have some…… fun with him before that.”

_Hmm…I wonder where you’ve been all these years, Ronald Black. You will be a nice collection to my army._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're finally back at Hogwarts! Hermione hits Ron, Ron hits Hermione, and he gets a few new friends.  
> Sry for making this shorter than usual, but I was in a hurry this time.  
> As usual, reviews and Kudos are always welcome, but my main wish is to please the maximum number of readers.  
> Fic for the day!  
> Harry Potter and the Persistence of Visions - Marzipan77  
> Simply amazing fic, one of the best I've read on ao3  
> Also, how the ruddy hell did this thing get a hundred more hits, in a single day?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Snakes all over the place.

Ronald Weasley POV

As Ron ran from the great hall, tears came unbidden to his eyes, and he had no idea why. He tried to convince himself that it was because of the pain and the embarrassment of being slapped in public, but deep inside, he knew the true reason.

_Hermione….Hermione just slapped him. And I hurt her as well. Hermione…._

He had no idea, why this one action hurt him more than anything else. Hadn’t she abandoned him in favour of the great Harry Potter, Boy who lived? Then why, when she screamed that she hated him right in his face, had he felt his heart break in two?

He didn’t understand it, because why? He hated her, and this was just the finalization of it. He had even fired a killing curse, imagining her in place of that dummy, then why did it have to hurt so much?

A few corridors away, the ghost of Gryffindor house heard an anguished scream from a few corridors away, and the pure pain in the sound made him still for a moment before he began to make his way towards it.

When he finally wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up, he saw that he was in front of the room of requirement. _Merlin, I’m getting addicted to this place!_ The room opened the moment he showed up, and Ron stormed inside, throwing off his shirt and robes, before welcoming the dummies again.

This time, the room presented him with 4 dummies, and Ron relished as he destroyed them one after the other, not paying attention to the scrapes, injuries, and bruises he was receiving. _LET THEM SHARE MY PAIN! BECAUSE WHY? WHY CAN’T I EVER STOP LOVING HER?_

He didn’t notice as his methods of destruction became progressively more brutal. He tore of one’s head with an _incarcerous_ , snapped another’s neck with his bare hands, and hit one with a killing curse. The fourth was turned into ashes from conjured snakes made of fire. The scene was exactly reminiscent of the last time he had come here to vent his anger out in such a brutal fashion: the evening after Grimmauld Place.

At last, Ron lay sweating and bleeding on a bed which had appeared out of thin air, trying to concentrate on only the blood on his tongue from a broken tooth. He didn’t want to think of how the slap had hit his right cheek, leaving a mark which felt like it would burn forever, like a waving red flag for the entire world to see, a symbol that _screamed,_ that Ronald Black was _weak, pathetic, a coward._

Absentmindedly, he began to heal his several injuries with the only healing charm he knew ( _episkey_ ; he sucked at healing magic) and a salve the room had offered. The moment the balm made contact with the cut on his forehead, he could feel a sizzling sensation, before the place grew ice cold and in a second, there was no sign of him ever being injured.

However, no amount of salve, healing spells, or medicine would ever heal the pain which still persisted in his heart.

Which was why, he turned to the only method which had worked the last time.

He felt bile rise in his throat at the inherent _sickness_ of the act he was about to perform, but he swallowed it back down. He just wanted to fill the hole in his chest.

With a ‘POP!’, the chair and dummy which had been burned into his mind appeared in front of him, and he sat into the wooden seat with shaking limbs.

He watched, filled with a strange feeling of fear and relief, as the blank faced doll loomed over him, its wand raised threateningly. He closed his eyes, waiting for the red beam to appear and put him out of his misery.

_‘Crucio’_

This time, when the sweetest unforgivable hit Ron, he didn’t scream in pain like the last time, for this pain was nothing compared to the emotions tearing him apart from the inside. Yes, he did thrash about, he bit the inside of his cheeks so hard that it drew blood, but he was determined not to scream. Why, he didn’t know. Maybe he was just tired of hearing human voices. Yes, that must have been the answer for him.

Once the first wave of pain had passed, Ron looked up at the dummy, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, presenting a truly horrific sight for any human who could have seen the scene.

“Really? Is that all you can do?”, he said before bursting into hysterical laughter. “Hit me again, you stupid dummy!”

This time, he didn’t get a moment to prepare, and a physically and emotionally tortured scream tore its way out of his throat the moment the blood read beam hit him.

He was sure that he must have torn a vocal cord or something with how much he had screamed, but the pain finally stopped, leaving Ron panting and slumped forward in his seat, the tears indistinguishable from the blood.

But yet, he was happy, for he had forgotten the void in his heart, drowned in the realm of physical pain.

He applied a tooth healing potion on the gums near his loose tooth, before redressing and picking up the time turner. _Hmm, I stayed here for 90 minutes, so have to go back that long as well._

He didn’t bother to even ponder about how simple it had become for him to harm himself, to let himself be tortured. He didn’t _want_ to think about how messed up his life had become.

He twisted the device in his hands to send him back 10 minutes extra just for safety, and landed in the past with a thump. He ordered the room to reset things to the way they had been when he first entered, before slipping out under the disillusionment charm.

As he arrived at the entrance of the great hall, he saw that Hermione had just slapped him, and there was a huge crowd of all four houses watching the show. He watched as Granger was tied up without a wand, eliciting gasps from students and teachers, something the past him didn’t notice, before he leaned in and began whispering those words.

 _Huh, imagine if she knew that I would do the same thing even after this event._ , he thought through strange sort of numb haze.

A minute later, he withdrew, leaving behind a sobbing and shaking Granger. Her eyes were bloodshot, tears were dripping down her face she was shaking violently, and her hair was frazzled more than usual. The past Ron stormed past him, and the current one just dodged him in time.

A few moments later, the bindings on Granger vanished, and she fell to the ground in a pathetic heap, sobbing into the dirty floor, causing Ron to feel …. _disgusted_ …. at the sight before him. This was what weakness looked like, and Ron absolutely loathed weakness.

A mirthless smile crossed his lip at the sight. _No wonder none of them can even hope to attain my level of power, because they embrace weakness, call it a normal, understandable reaction. _

However, inside him, the 12-year-old who sat by the bushy haired witch’s bed when she had been petrified, talking to her for hours on end, shed tears of sorrow, pain and grief.

The current Ron took that moment to walk into the hall and remove the disillusionment charm from himself, causing those around him to jump back in shock.

“Bloody Hell! Where did you come from?”, Theo exclaimed in shock.

“Disillusionment charm”, he replied in a monotone, his eyes fixed on the sobbing girl before him. “Went out for a few moments to calm my mind with occlumency, and came back to see the result of my words.”, he said coldly.

The eyes of those around him widened at the nonchalant manner at which he admitted to hurting Hermione Granger. Even the Slytherins knew that the two of them had liked each other for ages, but had continued dancing around the other, afraid of rejection. And yet, here Ron was, watching her cry with a sneer on his lips.

 _Something must have happened between these three over the summer._ Thought Theo. _And whatever did, it must have been really bad for Ronald Weasley, the guy who made a mess of himself over the veela, to become like the dark lord._ He shuddered at the memory of those blue eyes staring into Malfoy’s grey ones.

Suddenly, Ron whipped out his wand, and with a wordless levitation charm, put Granger into an upright position such that she was staring straight at him.

“Listen here, Granger.”, he said with the tone of a cold, emotionless judge, dishing out justice in the harshest manner possible. “No one here appreciates your sniveling on the floor, after just a few harsh truths. So, do us all a favour, and take your pathetic tears to Gryffindor tower.”

“Oh, and don’t even think about disobeying my orders.”, he said with a deadly smile. “Wait, actually, you might say it to the great Brat who lived, but no one else.”, before removing her out of the hall.

Every single person in the hall was staring at him in fear and shock at the display of his coldness and magical prowess. Dumbledore, for once, was wary of Ronald.

_This is wrong…. he reminds me too much of Tom Riddle. Granted, what Miss. Granger did was taking it too far, but the way he reduced her to tears within a minute…oh gods._

“Fine, so if you’re all done gawking at me like I’m Voldemort.”, he snapped. He just wanted to go to sleep. “May we please go to the Dungeons? You see, I just want to go to sleep right now.” The use of Voldemort was deliberate, as he had no doubt that the teachers were comparing him to the dark lord. For some reason, it …. pleased him.

People feared and respected him, something which he had never experienced in his life. People feared Potter in 2nd year, respected him at all other times. Granger was feared by some of the Ravenclaws due to her academic prowess, and had the respect of the teachers.

Feeling feared by some and respected by others – it was a new and exciting sensation for him.

And it was also addicting, like a drug which sent waves of euphoria washing over him.

That seemed to break the students out of their reverie, and the Slytherins were the first to exit the hall, Ron, Theo, Daphne, and Tracey at the front of the line. “What in Merlin’s name was that, Ron?”, exclaimed Tracey.

“I never gave you permission to use my first name, Davis.”, he replied coldly, causing the other three to take a step back. Though it was clear that Tracey had been offended, they all silently agreed to stay quiet, after seeing what had just happened.

Discreetly, Daphne cast a cheering charm on the red head, and the tension in the air seemed to subside immediately. “Oh, er – sorry for treating you like that, Tracey. I was just …being a right prat.”, he said sheepishly after a moment of silence.

“Oh, and all of you can call me Ron as well.”, he added, and the other three smiled at him. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to make proper introductions as well!”, Tracey exclaimed, clapping her hands.

“Nott – Theodore Nott.”, said the weedy boy, extending his hand for a shake, which Ron did strongly.

“Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass.”, introduced the pretty blonde, presenting her dainty right hand.

_Er – pureblood customs are confusing. What do I do, kiss her knuckles or shake her hand?_

In the end, Ron resorted to the latter, causing chuckles from the other three. “We have a lot to teach you about pureblood customs, Ronnie boy!”, laughed Tracey while putting a hand on his shoulder. It felt warm and Ron felt his ears burn from embarrassment.

‘Um, I was brought up a Weasley, so I have no idea about …customs.”, he mumbled, causing Daphne to huff in a way which reminded Ron of Hermione when she was annoyed.

“Alright, first, you always shake a lord’s hand, while you kiss a lady’s knuckles.”, she said, presenting her knuckles again.

Ron took her pale fingers in his right hand tentatively, before bowing and softly touching his lips to her knuckles, his ears burning an, er - _interesting_ shade of red. To his surprise, Daphne didn’t as much as blush or even _smile,_ making Ron wonder if she knew occlumency.

“Good, now, introduce yourself.”, she ordered imperatively. “Erm – Black - Tonks, Ronald Black - Tonks?”, he asked more than said, trying to imitate how Theo had introduced himself.

“Good”, Theo said, nodding appreciatively, before Tracey offered her hand, which Ron took much more gracefully than the first time, and kissed her tanned knuckles, causing her to at least giggle.

“Davis, Tracey Davis, and Slytherin Half Blood.”, she introduced, and Ron was a bit taken aback. He had always thought that Slytherin only had the children of the old families.

“Black – Tonks, Ronald Black – Tonks.”, he said with a smile. “Guess I have a lot to learn about Slytherin. I always thought that this house was filled with prats, but turns out I’m thankfully wrong.”, he joked

Soon, they arrived at the Slytherin common room entrance, and Ron was filled with memories of how he and Harry had snuck in here in their second year. _Oh, shut up. it’s not like the two of you are ever gonna even talk again._

“The password is Basilisk, and you’d do best to remember that, Blood Tra – “, Malfoy started, but one look from Ron shut him up. With a grin, Ron decided to try something on his mind.

He looked at the snake on his house badge, and hissed _open_ at the wall, surprising quite a few people around him.

The effect was immediate, and the wall fell into the ground, revealing the Slytherin common room, a place which he now saw in a totally different light since he wasn’t on a ‘mission’, and was coming here legally.

The other students gaped at him, and Ron smirked back before entering the common room with his three new friends at his side, the rest of his new house quickly following.

As soon as the passage was crossed, Ron gaped at the sight before him. The Slytherin common room, for lack of better word, simply reeked of nobility, power, wealth, and regality, causing a part of Ron to wonder if he truly did belong here.

All the seats in the room were lined with black leather or dragonskin, there was a fireplace with green flames crackling in the corner. There were torches for lighting, which bathed the room in a sort of in between light – and – dark ambience, which Ron felt somewhat fitting, as he felt that he too was a creature of both black and white. It didn’t miss Ron’s notice that there were shelves full of leather lined books against the walls, and he made a mental note to check out for any blood magic, or that the room seemed to be…. under the Black Lake, for the windows had green, murky waters swirling just outside them.

“All second years and above, go back to your dorms. First years and We – Black, stay back here.”, ordered Malfoy, and Ron was reluctantly impressed by the ease with which he grabbed attention and respect.

“I’ll reserve you a bed.”, Theo whispered before walking to his dorms leaving Ron to peer over his fellow newbies. _Was I really that short and midgety when I was 11?_ he mused, waiting for the speech to start.

“Greetings, first years.”, started Parkinson, not bothering with Ron’s name, but he didn’t care. He was just drinking in the sights.

“I, Pansy Parkinson, and Draco Malfoy are the prefects for house Slytherin, and we hope that you make our house proud.”, she said, sending a sneer towards Ron, who returned it gladly. He wondered, if feared and sneers were the only expressions the ferret knew, for he had yet to see him use any other expression in his four years at Hogwarts.

“For now, we have nothing more to say to you, for our head of house, Severus Snape shall be formally inducting you into the house with a speech.”, Malfoy informed with clipped tones, before turning on his heel and heading to his dorms.

There was an awkward silence for a moment amongst the newbies, Ron wondering what he had done to be grouped with first years (oh wait, I’m re-sorted!), before he heard a soft whoosh, and turned to face Snape billowing into the room, making an inhumanly small amount of noise, causing several firsties to jump in shock.

“Welcome, to the noble house of Salazar Slytherin.”, he began in a soft but commanding tone. “I am professor Severus Snape, and I am your head of house from this moment on. That means, you can rely on me for your needs, and I will never betray your trust. I give you my word. I expect excellence from you in all your classes”, Snape’s voice became a bit louder, and a lot more authoritative, and his gaze became a piercing stare, filled with anger for some reason, causing Ron to gulp. He understood why the man was so feared.

“Excuses for subpar performances within classes will not be tolerated. I expect all of you to respect your teachers and other staff members, and I will not allow your incompetence to lose us the house cup, which we have won for six years in a row now. As such, those who lose points or fall behind in their studies will answer. To. Me.”

“As all of you aware”, with this, the professor’s eyes landed on Ron for a bit. “Slytherin is often seen as the evil house by the rest of the school. As such, I expect all of you to stand by each other, and do your absolute best for your fellow housemates. An overlooked trait of Slytherin is Fraternity. All of you will present a united front to the rest of Hogwarts, and fighting in public is strongly discouraged. All feuds will be settled in the common room in a civil manner.”

“Tomorrow morning you will all be given your school schedules at breakfast. I expect you all to be there on time. Tardiness will not be tolerated. I also expect that all of you will look presentable and respect this school uniform. Am I understood, without a shadow of doubt, all that I have spoken to you of?” the first years and Ron, nodded quickly.

With one last sharp nod towards them, Snape billowed silently out of the room, and all the inhabitants let out a collective breath which they hadn’t realized they’d been holding. _Whew, Snape never gets any less intimidating._

While the first years were chattering in the background, Ron slipped away towards where Theo had gone, and he soon found himself in a dorm room with three beds. Theo was near the left wall, his bed with plain green quilts. On the right side, a boy whose name Ron vaguely recalled as Zabini, sat removing the contents of his trunk.

“Sup, Ron!”, Theo greeted from his bed where he seemed to be drawing something. “Hey!”, he replied, his eyes glancing towards the new boy, who had looked up at the new visitor.

Subconsciously, Ron compared the two boys. Theo was thin, had messy brown hair, and was pretty tall (though nowhere near tall as Ron), and had brown eyes, pretty good looking. Zabini on the other hand, was the picture of aristocracy. High cheekbones, dark, Mediterranean skin, black eyes, short cut black hair. Yea, you get the picture.

For a moment, Ron was surprised as to how Daphne ended up with Theo, as the two were practically opposites. It had taken both Theo and Tracey’s coaxing to put down her ice queen persona before Ron, while Theo seemed to be an easygoing person.

Ron put his trunk under his bed, before turning to Zabini, who was regarding him curiously. “Black - Tonks, Ronald Black – Tonks.”, he said, putting his hand forwards.

The dark - skinned teen shook it firmly, “Zabini, Blaise Zabini”, he introduced.

A few minutes later, Ron had his bed ready, but as he lay on the mattress, a sudden problem came to his mind. There were no curtains around their beds here, so no place to cast an imperturbable charm.

He had been having nightmares every night since that day, and he didn’t want anyone hearing his whimpers and screams as he thought about that night in the hospital. He didn’t want to show the outside world any sign of weakness or vulnerability.

“Nightmares?”, Zabini asked suddenly from behind him, and Ron turned to see that he had curtains up around his bed, to Ron’s surprise.

“Uh, yeah.”, he admitted scratching his neck awkwardly. “Just point your wand around your bed and say _opirimentum._ The curtains come with a built - in imperturbable charm.”, Theo explained, doing it on his bed as well.

Ron moved his wand in a rectangle around his bed, and to his surprise, deep, green curtains sprouted out of thin hair surrounding the bed, while a sort of roof appeared over the bed. “Bloody Hell!”, he exclaimed, causing a “Language!”, from Blaise. And though Ron snickered along with Theo, the word reminded him painfully of Hermione scolding him.

As he lay in his bed, simply staring at the roof above him, the imperturbable charm deactivated, he suddenly heard Blaise speak from his right, in almost a whisper. “Nightmares?”, he asked softly and Ron gulped before nodding in response.

“You too?”, asked Theo from the left. “Yeah, you guys have them too?”

“Yeah.”, they mumbled. There was silence for a few seconds, the only sounds being the light breathing of the boys.

“What do you have nightmares about?”, Blaise asked suddenly, almost as if he was confused with the idea of others having nightmares, which was true in a sense.

“My…er – worst nightmares literally came true. My family threw me away in favour of Potter and Granger, and those two traitors cut me off as well.”, he said after a short while. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to talk with these two about his problems.

“For me….my mother.”, said Theo. “She died when I was 6.”, he added in a whisper.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”, consoled Ron, truly feeling sad for the boy. _Did I really think that all Slytherin were cold hearted bitches?_

“Me – my fathers”, Blaise said, and Ron looked at him in confusion. Blaise looked really uncomfortable, but he still continued. “My mother is Maura Zabini, and she is currently on her 7th husband.”

Ron’s eyes widened in shock. 7 bloody husbands? _What the hell is she, a whore?_

“Each one is richer than the previous one, and so she gains his wealth after each one’s ‘mysterious death’”, he said bitterly, and Ron finally understood. His mother probably killed all of them for their money, and Blaise probably caught her in the act once.

“I’m sorry, it must be hard living with such a person.”, he consoled quietly, and the bronze skinned boy simply turned over in his bed.

“Merlin, I don’t even know why I’m telling all of this to a person who’s practically a stranger.”, he moaned, and Ron responded, “Probably the Weasley charm”, before he could stop himself.

At once, a pang of pain shot through his chest, and the void opened up again for a moment, as he remembered the running joke among the children.

As Ron slowly dozed off to sleep (after casting the imperturbable charm), his mind raced with hastily made plans for the next day, before he closed his eyes and waited for the nightmares to start along with his roommates. He didn’t notice the slight shaking of his fingers, caused by nerve damage under the Cruciatus, or the infinitesimal burn within him.

Far away, a brown eyed girl and a boy with a lightning scar sat huddled in their common room’s couches, eyes dead, staring into the fire. They knew that they wouldn’t be able to sleep for quite a long time.

*****************

Daphne Greengrass POV

A girl with crystal blue eyes, her smooth blonde hair falling around her heart shaped face in a way which almost framed her features, accentuating them, slipped out of the 5th year girls’ dorm an hour before anyone else would wake up.

Daphne Greengrass was the Heiress of House Greengrass, one of the richest houses in all of Europe, having earned its wealth through extensive trading with the muggles during the first world war a few generations ago.

However, in Slytherin, and the rest of Hogwarts, she was known as the ‘Ice – Queen’, due to her ability to control her expression, which was on par with Severus Snape, along with her grasp of occlumency, which was something even adults struggled to learn.

Along with that, to the rest of the houses, she was known as one of the most beautiful girls in all of Hogwarts, along with one of the most…. dangerous. You could never tell if she was using you to get something she wanted, or if she genuinely liked you. And all this was because of the skills her parents had taught her at an early age – controlling your expression, occlumency, a brief grasp on legilimency, and other arcana mind arts, things which were vital in setting a profitable deal.

In the house of snakes, she was known as a cold person, and one of the most powerful and influential as well. Some even called her ruthless, and said that she performed blood magic, which was a taboo topic in its own right. However, these were lies. Partially.

She did perform a few dark spells, but blood magic was something her mother had taught her to be very careful around, for it messed with your mind, your soul, and left you twisted, sadistic, and monstrous – like Voldemort.

In reality, on the rare occasion of her letting down her exterior walls, if she let you into her heart, she would forever be on your side. Currently, there were only five people who’d managed to weasel their way into her heart – Astoria Greengrass, her dearest sister. Marissa Greengrass, her mother, from whom she’d inherited her beauty. Enoch Greengrass, her father, the shrewdest businessman in wizarding Britain. Tracey Davis, her green - eyed best friend. And finally, Theodore Nott, the sarcastic teen who’d somehow managed to win her affection during the Triwizard tournament, and a marriage contract between the two of them.

 _Ahh, Theo._ , she thought with a soft chuckle, remembering why the two of them had a habit of waking up an hour before the others. Theo had always, for some inexplicable reason, enjoyed snogging in places where anyone could walk in on them, like the common room. And she, going very out of character, had actually acquiesced to his puppy – eyed requests. _Imagine what father would say if he found out._

In fact, that was probably why she’d fallen in love with him. He was the only boy she knew who could manage to break past her frigid exterior and elicit a chuckle from her, who somehow made her heart race, brought a blush to her fair cheeks, and made her do things which were so innately _scandalous,_ yet so sweetly exciting.

However, her dopey grin quickly fell and was replaced by a calculating expression as she remembered why today’s meeting was so important.

Ronald Black – Tonks’ arrival had caused quite the ruckus.

The once – Weasley had casually jaunted into Slytherin house, completely changed, with a strategic streak a mile long, had managed to, by some miracle, become Lord of _House Black,_ a house as rich as Greengrass house. And that was all discounting the fact that he was easily going to be the most powerful student in their entire year.

He was surely going to cause some huge ripples across the country. The daily prophet was also going to have a field day with his ascent to Lordship position.

Her footsteps were soft, dainty, and silent from years of training in etiquette, as she stepped down the stairs and onto the carpeted floor of the Slytherin common room. At once, she found herself face – to face with her boyfriend, who was on at the coffee table, fiddling with his wand, a calculating look in his face.

 _Despite being a joker, he can be a Slytherin whenever he wants._ It was then, that the boy noticed Daphne’s presence, and got up at once with a smile, though for some reason, it didn’t reach his brown eyes.

“Daphne!”, he greeted, pulling her along for a quick kiss, which, even after dating him for months, didn’t stop the tiny sparks which went off all through her body.

“So…how’s Ron? What’s he like?”, she asked as she sat down next to her boyfriend on the loveseat.

“He’s…. Merlin, how can I even describe him.”, he muttered, slinging and arm around her shoulders, as she cuddled closer to him, desperate for some of that earthy scent which she cherished so much.

“Tell me how much he’s changed from the stupid, yet somehow adorable Ronald Weasley of Gryffindor house.”, she said, desperate for information on the person they were planning to join forces with.

Yes, she knew that Ron was a person you didn’t want to make enemies with, as he had shown with his assault on Granger which had left her a sobbing mess on the floor of the great hall. And Slytherins were known for their sense of self preservation, which obviously lead to them allying themselves with Ronald Black.

They were actually quite lucky in that department, for Ron didn’t come in with some previous hatred towards any of them, and it was clear that he liked them for the sole reason that they had befriended a half-blood.

In fact, she was pretty sure that Draco Malfoy was currently moping about the fact that he’d completely blown an opportunity to maybe ally himself with House Black, though, she was pretty sure that the only way Ron would ever alloy the Malfoys to ally themselves with him was if Lucius Malfoy swore blood oaths of fealty to him, while kneeling before Ron. Essentially, if they agreed to become slaves of Ron.

An added benefit of befriending Ron early on was the fact that they would be able to teach him the ways in which Lords and Ladies of Noble houses function – like speaking in language which weaved and meandered all over the place, a miasma of veiled insults. They could show him how to survive in Slytherin house as well, because no matter how good he was with his words, he would still require help to survive the house of snakes.

And if the Lord of their most powerful allied house was strong and Slytherin himself, then they would benefit as well. Greatly. Which was why Daphne knew that they had to ally themselves with Ron.

“You do realise that I don’t like my girlfriend calling other boys adorable, don’t you?”, he joked, earning a smack on the arm from Daphne.

“Alright, alright, calm down, Daph!”, he said, using the nickname which she actually adored, though she would never tell him so.

“Ron…well, we already saw his display back at the opening feast, and he claims to know occlumency well enough to calm himself in a few seconds.”, she started.

“He’s lying.”, Daphne cut in almost at once. “I sent a probe into his mind on the carriage, but he managed to sense me and avert his gaze, but not before I saw a few tidbits of what he did over the summer. Though, I couldn’t access what happened to him to cause their…parting of ways.”

Theo frowned at her confession, but didn’t comment on it. The boy was one of the softest and kindest Slytherins she knew, and didn’t approve of her intruding on anyone’s privacy, but he’d given up trying to dissuade her from her habit. _He needs to become a bit more…amoral, or he’ll never survive in the outside world. However, I won’t have him any other way either._

“He clearly practiced a lot of magic over the summer, leading to him becoming as buffed up as he is now.”, said Theo. “As to why they parted…he said that his worst nightmares came true, and his family and friends threw him away. He didn’t elaborate anymore.”

Though from the outside she didn’t show any reaction to his words, internally, she was grimacing, and actually felt a bit of pity for the redhead. Though why, she couldn’t explain, for pity wasn’t an emotion she felt often – not even when she’d heard of all those people who’d died in the first war. _Maybe it’s just because Theo is near to me. He always managed to make me a bit more emotional than normal._

Theo’s face, however, openly showed pity for him, and they stayed like that for a few moments in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company with Theo staring into the fireplace, and Daphne studying his face.

“Theo, your eyes are bloodshot.”, she said worriedly. “What happened?”

That seemed to snap him out of the trance he’d gone into, and he looked to her with a grimace plastered on his face. “Oh, nothing…I’m just wondering how he must have felt for those few months without anyone to care for him.”

Daphne simply frowned at him, seeing right through the façade. She knew him well enough to tell when he was lying. “Come on, you really can’t expect me to believe that. Tell me, what’s really wrong.”, she said, adding that lilt to her voice which she knew got to him every time.

As expected, the walls he’d put up around himself broke down at one, and his entire body sagged, defeated. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him, hoping that she could protect him with her embrace. “It’s father.”, he said, face and voice oddly devoid of emotion. “He sent me a letter, telling me to spy on Ron and report to him, no doubt to pass information to the dark lord.”

Like always, at the very mention of the dark lord’s return, her skin began to crawl and her blood froze in her veins, horrible stories her parents told her coming to the forefront of her mind. She remembered how her parents had been forced to become death eater, because she herself had been kidnapped at the tender age of 4 months.

She herself didn’t remember anything of the events, other than the fact that she had been kept somewhere dark for a long time, and the small, black scar she had on the back of her neck, where one of the death eaters had cut her to use her blood to sign the contracts handing over a lot of the Greengrass fortuned to them. Her mother told her that her father had cried when they’d cut her.

Till Theo had said those words, she’d still been in denial about that, that…monster’s return. However, seeing his utterly devastated expression, in what she imagined how he told her he’d felt when his first pet had died, she just knew that lord vol – You – know – who was back.

“What are you going to do about it?”, she asked softly, snuggling even closer to him.

He let out a bitter, choked laugh. “I really don’t know.”, he said. “I – I really like the guy, you know. It makes me feel wretched to be spying on him, and that too for the Dark Lord, who’s no doubt after his wealth.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve really gotten so attached to him after just a few conversations with him?”, she asked amusedly, though she knew that something like that was exactly what Theo would do.

He mock – glared at her, who just returned it. “I don’t really know why, honestly.”, he sighed out. “It’s almost like…I feel this – this connection to him which I can’t explain.”

Daphne scoffed. She’d never been one to believe in things like God and the supernatural and ‘special connections’. After all, if God really had existed, he surely would have prevented Voldemort from ever being born, surely.

Suddenly, a voice entered their conversation, which made her internally groan in frustration. “You do know, that literally anyone could listen in your conversation.”, drawled Draco Malfoy, before throwing himself onto a couch with as little grace as possible. Honestly, Daphne sometimes wondered how the boy had gotten into Slytherin with such little subtlety.

At once, Theo turned to the blonde ferret with an amused smirk. The two of them had never really got on well, even though their fathers were death eaters in arms, something which could be attributed to Draco’s irritating superior attitude.

“Oh, yes, we wouldn’t want anyone to listen in on our conversation.”, mocked Theo. “Honestly, everyone is talking about the same thing. It won’t matter if they overhear us.”

As expected, Draco’s cheeks attained a pink tinge to them, and he leaned forward, a sneer on his face. “I hope you know that _Weasley,_ stands no chance when the Dark Lord comes after him.”

Theo’s smirk didn’t leave his face, as Daphne internally shook her head at the Malfoy heir’s folly. _Is he too blind to realize that Voldemort will bring nothing but destruction to the entire world?_ “Firstly, you should call him Lord Black, especially after how he showed you up yesterday. Secondly, the dark lord would never come after him, for he doesn’t want to reveal himself just yet.”

Malfoy’s sneer grew even more disgusting, and he narrowed his eyes. “Did you two really forget your upbringing?”, he snarled. “No wonder the two of you are willing to join a _Blood Traitor._ Should have known you were both disgraces after you got together with the half-blood bitch.”

Daphne’s blood began to boil at the insult to her best friend, and Theo’s wand was already in his hand. “You’d better watch your step, Draco.”, growled Theo, as Daphne fixed the boy with a look which could freeze hell over. “You don’t really want _Lord Black_ to hate you even more, do you?”

As expected, the threat caused him to gulp in fear, and he quickly got up from his seat and headed towards the exit, though not before shouting back an insult to Ron. “Don’t worry, the Blood traitor will surely meet his end at the hands of the Dark Lord!”

“Sod off, _ferret!_ ”, yelled back Daphne, for some reason actually feeling angry at the thought of someone insulting Ron. However, she didn’t put too much thought into the odd occurrence.

“So, you got any idea on what to do with your task?”, asked Daphne, her expressionless mask back in place. Theo looked her dead in the eye, running a hand through his hair.

“I guess I’ll just have to spy on him for some time. Though…. after that, I’ll have to tell Ron.”, he replied, and Daphne didn’t say anything. She knew that going against the Dark Lord was very dangerous…though, there was also the part of her screaming at her not to betray Ron. Ever.

“Well, then I’ll just have to teach you Occlumency soon.”, she said nonchalantly. “Until then, I think we should go back to acting like ‘innocent teenagers’.”

Theo smirked at her, before leaning in until his lips were less than an inch away from hers, his breath causing her hair to stand on end and a spike of arousal reach her core.

“Oh, I know _just_ how I want to play at being ‘innocent teenagers.”, he said, voice oddly husky in a tone she knew very well, before he claimed her lips in a rough, heated kiss. She didn’t even try to resist, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards the couch and away from their worries.

Oh, if only every single second of her life could be like that – free from the world’s woes, insane dark lords, and backstabbing politicians.

*************

Ronald Black - Tonks’s POV

The next morning, as Ron walked into the hall, hair slightly ruffled and a few minutes later than his housemates (he still struggled to get up on time. Or maybe it was because he loved sleeping way too much to be healthy), his hands stretched above his head. The moment he entered the hall, every head swiveled towards him, causing him to blink. He had expected stares, but this was a much greater response than he had expected.

It was then that he noticed the latest copy of the Daily Prophet in everyone’s hands. _Damn you, Rita Skeeter. What crap have you written about me this time?_

As he made to sit beside his new friends, he heard the crowd erupt in whispers, but he only managed to catch ‘Heir of Slytherin’, something which made him frown. He nearly snatched the paper out of Tracey’s hands, and read through it rapidly, eyes swiveling from side to side.

_NEW BLACK LORD! TRUE LORD, OR FRAUD?_

_-By Rita Skeeter_

_Yesterday night, was a night which all wizarding children wait anxiously for, for it is their first night at Hogwarts, the night of their sorting. However, this year’s sorting carried a surprise as well._

_The sorting of the first years went without a hitch. Then, in a shocking turn of events, after the sorting of the first years was done, Ronald Weasley, a boy who has only been known as the sidekick of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, stood up and demanded a re-sorting, something which hasn’t been done in over 50 years!_

_When Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge asked him for his guardians’ permission, Ted and Andromeda Tonks, the teachers of the new subjects of healing, announced themselves as Ronald’s guardians. Ronald handed in legal emancipation files, and soon got re-sorted into Slytherin house, a house famously known for producing dark witches and wizards._

_Now, here’s where thing get murky. As he was walking down to his housemates, witnesses state that he fell to the ground in pain, just barely stifling screams. Though others might say that it was an act._

_Albus Dumbledore and Andromeda Tonks rushed forward to help the student, but out of nowhere, a bright blue sphere of reportedly dark magic appeared around him, hiding him from the outside world. When he reappeared, he had the black lordship ring on his right hand, the Black crest and motto branded on his chest, and his ‘new name’, imprinted on his back. Not to mention, he also suddenly developed the ability to speak parseltongue, something which I find a bit disturbing._

_Then, his legal mother, Andromeda Black nee Tonks, explained to the hall at large that Ronald was the new lord of House Black, due to some obscure, ancient ritual, which is more legend than reality, and I find myself unable to believe that a 14-year-old boy, constantly reported by teachers and classmates to be lazy, incompetent, and average, would suddenly acquire enough knowledge to emancipate himself, and then become the next Lord Black!_

_But the story doesn’t end there. After Ronald went back to his seat, Albus Dumbledore announced the name of the ‘mysterious person’ who caused much chaos over our country by convincing the headmaster of Hogwarts to introduce the new subjects of healing and Dueling, a subject which was banned after the first war due to the number of injuries its students sustained._

_And lo and behold, this mysterious person turned out to be none other than Ronald Black!_

_Dumbledore stated that Ronald stayed at Hogwarts over the summer, as he had had no home at the time, something which I find a bit difficult to believe. Couldn’t he have contacted the ministry for aid? And why would he break so many rules and years of tradition by staying at the school over the summer?_

_This is where we probably see Ronald Black’s true nature. He openly threatened Draco Malfoy, the heir of house Malfoy before the feast, and the teachers did absolutely nothing. And even after that, he wandlessly and wordlessly petrified Ms. Granger after the feast, and reduced her to tears, and again the teachers did nothing. Not to mention, he used a disillusionment charm on himself, and claimed to have knowledge of occlumency, something I once more find hard to believe. Teachers should not show this amount of lenience, to any student, no matter how skilled they are at things high above their level._

_Now, on another note, do you remember the petrifications which took place in 1992 in Hogwarts? Well, rumors say that there was some sort of monster under the school, possibly a basilisk which had been petrifying the students. Rumors also state that Harry Potter slayed the basilisk, while Ronald hung back._

_Now, seeing that a potion (which Ronald supposedly drank) cannot give a person the ability to speak parseltongue, the logical conclusion would be that he has had this ability to speak parseltongue since birth. And since we never found the person who had been ordering the basilisk around, we can safely assume that Ronald, one of the two parseltongues in the school was one of the suspects._

_All the more reason to believe that he was the culprit, is seeing that during the Triwizard tournament, he abandoned Harry Potter before the first task, and many of his peers have called him jealous of Harry’s skills, wealth, and fame. So, who’s to say that he might have been the one to release the basilisk as a twisted way of earning fame? Not to say, the Blacks are a family with a notoriously dark history, and Ronald has supposedly been chosen as its next lord, so who’s to say that he’s not just as dark as some of the other Blacks like Bellatrix Lestrange, the most feared Death Eater?_

_However, in the end, we have no proof for this, and these are all theories, though quite plausible ones at that. But yet, I would warn my readers to stay wary of this child, name Ronald Alphard Black – Tonks._

At the end of the article, Ron was shaking with anger and rage, and his eyes flashed their terrifying icy blue once more as he gripped the paper tightly, it suddenly burst into flame due to accidental magic, scorching his hands and causing several others to jump back in fear, but Ron didn’t even feel a thing. He was just way too angry to even notice, and no one dared as much as meet his eyes at that moment.

_Oh, Rita Skeeter, you will pay for this!_

Suddenly, his head snapped around, and he scanned the hall, looking for who could have done this. Potter and Granger looked horrified, but it was clear that they hadn’t done it. All the Gryffindors except for his sister, Neville, Fay, Potter, and Granger were sneering at him in contempt. However, the muggleborns and his siblings simply looked confused.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were a mixture, while all the Slytherins were wearing emotionless masks, like they didn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified. At least Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Tracey were on his side. Amongst the teachers, Umbridge, he noted that name down in his mind, was smiling like the cat that got the canary. All of the other teachers, though, were shaking in anger, and Ron fully understood them. Skeeter had insulted them as well, and Ron had promised that he would tear anyone who dared to hurt them to shreds.

And so, he did the only thing that he could in that situation.

He threw his head back and began to laugh a wild, hysterical laugh.

At once, all eyes were on him, some in accusation, some in fear, no doubt remembering the laugh of Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Ronald?”, Snape asked warily, and in an instant, Ron had gone quiet, and everyone held their breaths, waiting for what he would do.

Ron stood up, and took a deep breath, before addressing the crowd as a whole, willing them to stand up to him, for he knew that they were nothing compared to him, Lord Black. Their opinions didn’t really matter.

“So, it appears that Rita Skeeter has published another article.”, he started but was interrupted by the toad in pink. “Mr. Black, no students are allowed to address the crowd in the way you – “

“Silence.”, he said in a commanding voice while raising his left hand, and she went quite instantly, though whether it was from his accidental magic or due to his voice, no one was quite sure.

“Now, I know that there are those among you who will no doubt hang on to every word she wrote, there will be some who are confused, and yet others who hate her, and I know that there’s no use trying to shift your views. So, instead, I will give you the truth, something which Rita Skeeter has tried and failed repeatedly to deliver, thus failing her responsibility as a Journalist.”

“HOW DO WE KNOW THAT YOU, A SNAKE, SHALL TELL US THE TRUTH?”, Finnegan demanded from the Gryffindor table, and he could feel the Slytherins’ anger level increase at the insult. _Huh, could use that, y’know?_

“Ever heard of a blood oath, Finnegan?”, he asked with a smirk, eliciting several widened eyes.

In a second, he raised his wrists for everyone to see, his wand in his right hand, and cut both wrists with a silent _diffindo_.

There were gasps across the hall at the ease with which he cut his wrists, and also a pleading call from Albus. “Ronald, there’s no need to do this.”

“No, headmaster. I’m just bringing forth my side of the story. Let me do this.”

Putting his arms forwards so that blood was dripping down his arms, rivers of red providing horrific contrast to his pale skin, he began the oath.

“I, Ronald Alphard Black – Tonks, swear on my blood, magic, life, and honor as a wizard, that I shall only speak the truth about this article, unless the information is strictly confidential, in which case I shall state so. So, mote be it.”

There was a shimmer of magic around him, before a shockwave was generated by his core, ruffling students’ hairs and causing a few spillages of pumpkin juice, causing Ron to smirk at his magical power. The pulsation proved that what he said was true, and he smirked at Finnegan’s horrorstruck look.

“Now, let’s start from the beginning, which is what really happened inside that bubble.”, he started, while also healing the cuts with whispered incantations. “The branding was valid, no part of the ritual was faked, and the lordship ring did appear on my hand.”

The entire hall waited with bated breaths for his wrists to start bleeding uncontrollably, but when nothing happened, it was clear that he was speaking the truth.

“Then, a potion did appear from the ring, and when I drank it, I received the ability to speak with snakes. I did not possess this power beforehand.”

Once more, his magic proved that he was in fact telling the truth, and those who believed in the bug Skeeter started to pale.

“Next, the part where she pretty much insulted Slytherin, I digress. Yes, Slytherin has produced Dark witches and wizards, but it has also produced several light ones as well, the most notable one being Merlin himself. No group of people ought to be judged by the actions of a minority.”

At this, there were several approving nods from the Slytherins, and even Snape looked at him with a smirk. _Good…earn the loyalty of the snakes, and you’ll go a long way._

“Though I can’t be sure, I think that yes, the sphere was comprised of dark magic, and even the potion had to be extremely dark, for the burns which appeared on my back couldn’t possibly be caused by any normal, light magic, could it?” This was in fact the truth he believed in, and so Magic, by default, let him live. _Whew. Would have been quite anticlimactic if I began bleeding right here, wouldn’t it?_

“Then the part about me being a lazy prat, yes, I do agree that I was a lazy prat until the end of 4th year. However, my planning my emancipation was by no means attributed to any skill. For me, it was almost like a game of chess, and I am a really good chess player. Not to mention, I have begun working harder at my academics now. So, I don’t really think lazy can attribute to me anymore. Also, yes, I could have contacted the ministry, but they might have put me in a home I didn’t like. Hogwarts has been like a second home to me for 4 years, so it felt right to come here for solace”

“As you all saw, I did threaten Draco Malfoy, but it wasn’t unprovoked. He was making racist, blood purist comments, something with which I couldn’t deal, which was why I simply told him to stop acting like a death eater. In fact, by completely ignoring the fact that Draco regularly uses racial slurs like ‘mudblood’ and ‘blood traitor’, I can’t help but think that maybe you too are a blood purist? Maybe…maybe even a supporter of Voldemort?”, he said with a smirk, causing several scandalous gasps. _Ahhhh, the pleasures of fame, influence, and a good ol’ speech!_

“Also, all of you saw my accidental magic attacking Granger. That wasn’t my fault, as I only retaliated to her slapping me without me ever doing anything directly to harm her during the feast.” He mentally smiled at the wording, knowing that it would get past the oath. He hadn’t deliberately wished to harm her by tying her up, but, well, his magic had always been quite uncontrollable. _Never thought I’d have to use the skills learnt while preparing my emancipation files._

“Yes, I did abandon Harry during the first task, but later came back to him. Yes, I did feel jealous of his wealth and fame, but I most importantly felt jealous of how the Weasleys always seemed to love him more than they did their own son. You see, for my biological parents, I was always the sixth son, the one who didn’t have anything special to offer.”

“And finally, I did not release the basilisk. Because even if I was a natural parselmouth, why would I ever put my sister and innocent muggleborns in danger? Even now, when I am not a Weasley, I still love Ginny dearly.”

“And finally, Skeeter also insulted our professors by saying that they were partial to me. Well, I disagree. They simply let me deal with my own problems, and I’m pretty sure that both Granger and I have detention soon, so they still did punish me.”

There was utter silence in the great hall, everyone mulling over what he had just said. _Good, look at that Skeeter! I totally ruined your credibility in 3 minutes!_

“Oh, and as a side thought, I would like this published, Daily Prophet! Newspapers and magazines are strictly for the truth, not for lies like Rita Skeeter writes.”

Slowly, like the way a light winter shower began, people started clapping, and Ron once more felt the warm feeling in his chest whenever someone praised him. He could already feel the telltale warming of his ears, and ducked his head in order to hide the blush. He felt Theo thumping him on the back, and saw Blaise smirking at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Wait!”, intoned Umbridge suddenly and she had a disgusting smile on her face, indicating that he needed to be wary.

“There are still a few questions to be answered. Like, where was the basilisk kept, and why did no one know of its existence?”, she asked, no doubt wanting to discredit Dumbledore, and Ron felt the familiar anger bloom in his chest.

“Now that, I’m afraid, is confidential information. However, I will say that no one knew of its existence, simply because after the first time the attacks happened, everyone though that the monster was dead while in reality, the basilisk was kept dormant in a place whose existence only a few know of.”

Umbridge’s eyes narrowed at that, and Ron _winked_ at her, solely to annoy the pink clad woman. “Tell me, are you dark like the rest of the Blacks?”, she asked, with a dirty smile.

“Er – no. I am in no way like the rest of the living Blacks.” It was a dangerous question, but the wording was atrocious. The only living _Black_ was Sirius, and he did not practice any dark magic. So, in that sense, he was not dark _like_ the other living Blacks.

“Now, may I please eat my breakfast? Making blood oaths and destroying Skeeter’s reputation sure is tiring.”, he joked, to chuckles from quite a few.

With a smile, he sat down, and immediately dug into his breakfast, not caring about his friends staring at him like he was an animal.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!”, Daphne said, plucking the cutlery out of his hands. “Aaargh! Let me eat in peace, Daphne!”, he moaned in annoyance.

“Hey, first you gotta learn some etiquette! You’re Lord Black now, so you gotta act like Lord Black!”, Tracey said, all while eating _her_ food without stop, the smug bastard.

“The food isn’t gonna run away, so eat slowly, and actually enjoy it.”, instructed Blaise from beside him, while putting a delectable looking piece of cake into his own mouth. “Like this”, he had the guts to add.

Huffing, Ron took back his cutlery and got to work on his food, which was waiting for him on his plate. In the end, he still managed to eat two servings of everything, though slower than previously. His table manners were by no means good enough, but the other four’s nagging ought to do the trick soon enough.

As Ron left the great hall, whispers following him for once, he couldn’t help but relish the sweet feeling revenge always brought to him. He pulled out his time table.

 _Hmmm, Defense, Transfiguration, dueling, lunch, and double potions._ he smirked at the line of classes. _Can’t wait for dueling and potions. my, my, my, what a shock Granger will have!_

****************

Turned out, Umbridge was a fraud, and in their class with the Hufflepuffs, they were taught only theory, which would never hold in a fight. Not to mention, she had a personal vendetta against him (looked like the blossoming of another Malfoy vs Potter feud to him), which led to both of them getting detention the next week ‘for spreading lies’. Hell, the bitch couldn’t accept that Voldemort was back, and wanted to protect her precious Fudge. Also, he had a detention the next night for the show in the great hall. Surprisingly, Granger only got detention with McGonagall.

Currently, he was heading to dueling, wondering who would be teaching them. _Hmmm, hope it’s Albus._ He sneaked a glance at the students around him, and saw that all of them were pretty excited, especially because they had their lessons with the Gryffindors. Slytherin VS Gryffindor always led to some interesting confrontations, something which Ron couldn’t wait for.

They arrived at the classroom 3 minutes before time (predictably), and it was just in Ron’s luck that they got engaged in a staring contest with Potter and Granger, who looked _very_ uncomfortable.

“Hey guys, if you get to duel against one of these two, make sure to crush them”, he whispered in his friends’ ears, loud enough for the Gryffindors to hear, causing a few quite chuckles. _Wait, are they my friends?_

Just then, the door to the classroom opened, and he walked in, nearly jumping in excitement. When he saw who was taking their first lesson, he couldn’t stop the grin from breaking across his face. Dumbledore was teaching them!

“Good morning sir!”, the class chorused, Ron a little louder than the rest. “Good morning! Now, I hope all of you have read a bit of your textbooks?”, he chuckled, and all the students nodded, eyes wide in anticipation.

“Well then, I think today we shall go directly to practicals!”, he said, banishing the tables with one sweep of his wand.

“Pair up with a member of the other house, and then wait for my instructions.”, he ordered, and the class buzzed around, looking for an opponent. With a predatory grin, Ron immediately made a beeline towards Potter. _Well, let’s see how much I can humiliate you, Potter._

In a minute the pairs were made: Potter – Ron, Granger – Blaise, Daphne – Neville, Malfoy – Finnegan, Thomas – Crabbe, and Goyle was left partnerless. “Well, Mr. Goyle, you may come against me.”, Dumbledore said, his eyes sweeping over the pairings. Upon seeing whom he had paired up with, he cocked an eyebrow, which Ron returned.

“So, first we shall be learning about your basic dueling stance, and dodging. Now, who can tell me what to do if a spell is coming towards you?”, he asked, and several hands shot up into the air.

“Hmmmm, Ms. Granger!”

“If a spell is heading your way, the best course of action would be to dodge, and if that’s not possible, then to erect a shield or barrier.”, she recited, quote by quote from the textbook.

“Excellent! Take 2 points. Next, who can show me a proper dueling stance?”

This time, only Ron’s hand went straight up, as Granger’s faltered for a second. “Yes, Mr. Black?”

Ron took a second to loosen up his arms, before demonstrating the proper dueling stance: Slightly bent legs to allow maximum ease of movement, sideways facing to reduce exposed surface area, and wand arm ready to fire a stunner at a second’s notice. Flitwick had taught him this stance, after showing him three different ones – this one had been the most aggressive one, and so he’d understandably chosen it, for Dark Magic was mostly offensive, and this stance would allow the quickest dark spells.

“Hmmm, excellent, Mr. Black! 2 points. Who can now tell me the advantages of a proper stance? Yes, Mr. Potter!”

“It allows ease of movement, reduces exposed surface area, and quick wrist movements.”, he said confidently, and was awarded another 2 points.

The questions went on for a few minutes until everyone had had the chance to answer one, and both houses received a total of 8 points each. Only Dean, Crabbe, and Goyle hadn’t been unable to answer (unsurprisingly regarding the latter two. They might as well have been gorillas with colors, ‘Malfoy’ written on them.)

“Excellent!”, the headmaster exclaimed, clapping his hands. “I think, now we can start practicals. We’ll start with the disarming spell. All of you, try and disarm your partner in turns, now!”

The two former best mates made to attack first, but Ron’s wand was faster, and Harry was thrown against the wall with the force of Ron’s spell, his wand flying straight into his left hand. At once, all heads turned to him, and several jaws dropped at his speed, power, and precision.

Dumbledore got Potter back up with a flick of his wand, stating that there were no injuries. “Excellent, Ronald! 5 points to Slytherin. Now, please do let your opponent disarm you as well.”

“Oh, of course professor.”

This time, it was Harry’s red spell which hit Ron, causing his wand to fly into the seeker’s hand, while Ron was forced a few steps back, his back against the wall. Gryffindor too, received 5 points.

In a few minutes, Granger, Daphne, and Malfoy had also managed the spell, earning points for their houses. “Now, for those who have not yet gotten the spell, look at me carefully. Others, you may engage in a duel, but no dangerous spells!”, Dumbledore said before herding over the ones who still hadn’t got it to the other side of the room.

Ron had a truly disturbing smile on his face, with which he turned to his fellow duelists. “Well, how do you want to pair up?”, he asked, smirking at everyone’s nervous expressions.

The others exchanged looks, until Malfoy spoke up. “The mu – Granger and I, against you. 2 v 1”, he drawled emotionlessly, and Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise. _Is Malfoy really admitting to a weakness?_

“What? This guy managed a seventh - year level spell. I have no wish to be thoroughly embarrassed.”, he said looking at the others. _Hmmm, smart. And a Slytherin’s wish for self - preservation_

“Alright then, get in position.”, Ron said, settling into the dueling stance. His two opponents stood in front of him, while the others watched from the sidelines.

“When I say go.”, announced Theo. “3...2…1…. GO!”, he said, sparks flaring from his wand.

In a second, Ron had a shield erected, and Malfoy’s stunner dissolved harmlessly against it. _Damn, he surely has some dueling training._

Now, both his opponents were barraging his shield with spells, and Ron had a hard time managing it. Fighting humans was very different from fighting dummies. Dummies were predictable, while these two had absolutely no sync or rhythm.

Strengthening the shield, Ron threw two stunners at his opponents. The blonde dodged, while Granger put up a shield, and Ron took the opportunity. Dodging a disarming spell from Malfoy, he threw a stunner, _Finite_ , and another stunner at Granger’s shield within a second. Her shield fell under the second spell, and she was flung against the wall, unconscious.

But Ron didn’t have time to dwell on his victory, as he just barely managed to block Malfoy’s hex with his shield. The red head turned to his last opponent with a smile, and the two exchanged spells for a few moments.

_‘Stupefy’ – ‘expelliarmus’ – tarrantalegarra!’ – ‘coloshoo!’_

As Ron dodged the sticking hex aimed at his legs, he saw the perfect opportunity as he saw Malfoy’s wand was drawn back for another spell, and Ron’s was right in front of him. Not to mention, his eyes were wide open, directly aimed at Ron’s wand, trying to predict his next spell.

Closing his eyes, he yelled, _‘LUMOS MAXIMA!’_ , and the oncoming amount of white light blinded everyone in the room temporarily except Ron. As he opened his eyes a second later, he could just barely make out Malfoy’s black robes, turned away from him, and disarmed him silently before stunning him.

It took 20 seconds for everyone to gain back their eyesight, and Dumbledore turned to see a victorious Ron, standing in the middle of the room, with the wands of the unconscious Draco and Hermione in his hands.

Ron was panting slightly from exertion, but still had a huge grin on his face, as this was the first human to human duel he had ever won since his fight with Moody, not to mention it was against Granger, the highest scoring student of the year, and Malfoy, who surely had received some dueling training. _Damn, I gotta check out a bit more dummies. Can’t lose to these two._

But the time it took didn’t faze him, as he hadn’t tapped into his emotions at all, and it was all pure skill, something which Ron was happy about. _‘Ennervate’_ , Dumbledore incanted, reviving the two unconscious students.

“What in Merlin’s name was that, Black?”, Malfoy asked the moment he woke up, contempt in his voice. “Oh, that? Nothing much, just using the most stupid means to win.”, he said with a smirk, causing Malfoy to frown, though Ron wasn’t sure if he imagined the small twitch of his lips.

“Bravo, Ronald! 15 points to Slytherin for ingenious uses of harmless spells.”, Dumbledore said while clapping, with a huge smile. Slowly, the others began clapping as well, and Ron ducked his head to hide his blush at the praise.

“So now, that we have witnessed this excellent duel, let’s pair up the others, shall we?”, Dumbledore said, before conjuring a paper with the pairings, and they caused Ron’s eyes to widen.

_Crabbe – Goyle_

_Harry – Draco_

_Hermione – Daphne_

_Blaise – Neville_

_Dean – Seamus_

“And Ronald, you will be coming with me”, he finished, to several widened eyes across the room. _Oh, but I don’t really want to display everything up my sleeve!_ This time, with a wave of his wand, Dumbledore conjured several dueling platforms across the room, with the names of their users floating over them. _Damn, impressive magic there, old man!_

“All of you, go to your respective positions, and Mr. Black and I will be checking your movements and stances.”, he announced, causing Ron’s eyes to bug out of his head. _What? Me, and teaching?_

However, seeing Dumbledore’s expression, he grumbled under his breath but got on with the task nonetheless. _I don’t get paid enough for this._

Ron went up to Daphne and Granger, who were both glaring at each other, fully looking intent on killing the other for some reason, which Ron couldn’t even begin to understand. As far as he knew, these two hadn’t even talked in their entire lives. Girls were confusing in general.

“General rules, no blasting curses, no serious dark magic, no cutters to the face or neck, and don’t kill the other. Everything else, including punching the opponent is allowed.”, Ron announced, to the class at large, recalling how he fought with the dummies.

“What, hand to hand is allowed?”, Daphne questioned, a hint of disgust at the rule, causing Ron to raise an eyebrow. “Yup, just don’t pull out a knife or break the opponent’s neck. Any other bone is alright.”, eliciting chuckles from the boys.

“No, seriously. If you find yourself close enough, it’s perfectly fine.”, he scowled. “Alright, enough talk! Now, on my count, begin!”, Dumbledore announced, and at once, the duels began.

The gorillas disarmed each other at the same time, causing both of them to fall on their butts. _Elegant._ Blaise was clearly playing with Neville, who had just got his feet stuck to the ground, and his wand was with Blaise.

Seamus, as expected, had blown up a part of the ground beneath his feet, and Thomas had gone ahead and punched him in the gut and snatched his wand physically. _Nice!_

However, the two most interesting duels were Harry – Draco, and Daphne – Hermione. The former pair were clearly drawing upon their emotions, as both their eyes were blazing with hatred, and spells were flying at a rapid pace. Both of them already had a couple of cuts over their body, but barely paid attention to them.

Suddenly, Harry cried out _‘LUMOS MAXIMA’_ , temporarily blinding Ron, however, Malfoy was prepared for it this time. Without wasting a second, he barreled forward, crashing into the Gryffindor, who fell back in surprise. In a second, Harry had ropes all around him, his wand had unable to move, and Draco stood over him with a black eye. Looked like both had gotten a hit on the other.

And then there was Daphne vs Hermione, and Merlin was that a mean duel. Both of them were using spells that Ron hadn’t as much as heard of. Hermione conjured a flock of birds to peck at the blonde, who in turn killed them all with a burst of flame, and she didn’t even bat an eye at the act. _Fuck, that’s cold!_ The murder seemed to make Hermione pause, and the blonde took that moment to use a spell on the muggleborn which pretty much made her hair come alive and dance around, obstruct her vision, and humiliate her.

Eyes blazing in anger, Granger used a spell on Daphne which, for lack of better words, reversed all the joints in her legs, causing her to fall backwards. _Ouch, looks painful._ And a few seconds later, she stood over her opponent victoriously, wand clutched in her hand. Though her hair seemed to be trying to choke her, forcing Ron to use a levitating charm on it to stop the tentacular bush from choking her.

“Wow, those were some truly creative spells, Ms. Granger and Ms. Greengrass.”, Albus commended, causing both girls to blush (but they still didn’t stop their staring contest) with a quick flick of his wand, the headmaster reversed the spell Hermione had used, before starting to award points.

“Let’s see, 20 points to Miss Granger, 15 to Ms. Greengrass, 10 to Mr. Malfoy, and another 10 to Mr. Thomas. Now, all of you, back to your dueling positions!”, he said, and everyone returned.

“Now, Ronald, go and correct any errors on the left side, I’ll go on the right side.”, Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes, before moving away. Ron sighed in defeat; he’d be dealing with the two best pairs ... and the most annoying pairs.

“Dueling Stance!”, he barked, causing them to jump in surprise, before obeying. “Granger, you need to relax a bit more, being so tense won’t do anything. Greengrass, you need to bend your knees a tad more, you’re not at a ball here.”, he said, inspecting the stances of the four. They were good, but not perfect.

“Malfoy, stop being Lockhart and keep your wand hand at the ready, Potter, no need to lean forward so much. You’re not on your broom.”, he said, though there was no derision in his voice. He, for some reason, genuinely wanted to see these four become perfect. Maybe it was because he wanted to please Dumbledore.

There were a few snickers along with scowls, but they obeyed nonetheless. He saw Malfoy, Potter, and Granger shoot him a surprised look at him being able to teach, to which he returned a sneer. _There’s a lot of things you don’t know that I can do. So, shut up and mind your faces, bastards._

“Hmm, good. Today, we’ll practice dodging first. First, the Gryffindor will shoot 15 stinging hexes within 30 seconds, and the Slytherin’s target is to dodge them without his or her wand. After that, you’ll switch. Clear?”

This time, all four of them were staring at him as if he was an alien. _When did Ron become such a good teacher?_ thought Harry in surprise.

“Oh, will you shut up and get on with the exercise?”, he scolded, and they turned to their partners. Ron walked to the area between the two dueling mats, and raised his wand into the air. “3, 2, 1, Start!”, he shouted, releasing a bang from his wand. 

At once, Harry and Hermione began firing spells at Draco and Daphne. This time, it was clear who were the two superiors in this area. While Hermione plain missed 4 of her stinging hexes, and Daphne went down after a total of 8 fired hexes, 2 of which made contact, Harry was much more precise, and Draco was also much quicker. Out of 15 fired spells, Harry missed 3, Draco was hit with 4, and total dodges were 8. _Bloody seeker reflexes._

“Hmmm, very good!”, he said with false cheer as his fellow housemates lay on the ground groaning in pain. “Shut the hell up, Black, and heal us!”, Draco growled from the ground.

“Oh, I’m really bad at healing, and the only spell I know is _‘episkey’_ , so you’ll have to heal your own injuries, I’m afraid.”, he announced ‘worriedly’, causing a stinging hex in the back from Daphne.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar chuckle behind him, and whipped around to see Dumbledore behind him, barely holding back laughter. With a flick of his wand, Draco and Daphne were back up, and all their injuries had disappeared.

“I see you’re a very … hands – on teacher, Mr. Black.”

“Yup!”, he answered happily before turning to his pupils. “Malfoy, Daphne, how many hexes hit you?”, he barked more than asked. “And answer truthfully.”, he added, knowing that Slytherins were a proud bunch.

“4”, mumbled the Malfoy heir, while Daphne said, “2”.

“Greengrass, you need to work on your speed and pain tolerance. You were done just after your second hex. Malfoy, well done, but there’s always room for improvement.”

“Potter, you missed a total of 3 out of 15, and Granger, you missed 4 out of 8. Potter did well, Granger, you need to improve on your accuracy.”

“However, well done overall. You guys surely did better than me when I tried it out for the first time.”, he commended truthfully. They had done pretty well.

Ron remembered how the first time he had tried this exercise (he had read about it in the dueling book from the RoR), he had been hit 13 times out of thirty, and often found himself on the ground after only 3 hits.

All four of them looked surprised at this, but accepted it nonetheless. “Why are you commending and aiding us, Black?”, Malfoy asked with eyes narrow, and the question took Ron back. Why _was_ he appreciating Malfoy, Potter, and Granger?

“I – even I honestly don’t know. Out of the four of you, I only like Daphne.”, he admitted, brows knitted in confusion. Malfoy looked seriously surprised by this response, as if he was expecting some lie or ulterior motive, but him admitting the truth wasn’t something he was ready for.

“Alright, whatever.”, he said, shaking his head to clear the mess. He’d just have to check it out later. However, before he could tell them to go back to practice, Dumbledore arrived at the center of the room.

“Class, seeing that we only have 5 minutes left, we’re going to have only one more duel, and it will be any duel which you choose, so, go ahead!”, he said with a smile, and Ron immediately knew where this was going. _Oh, the sneaky bastard!_

As expected, everyone voted for Ron against the headmaster, and the red head groaned in frustration (even though he too was looking forward to a good duel). Dumbledore smiled, before clapping his hands and expanding the room magically. _W – that’s not even possible! You can’t do such a complex spell wandlessly!_

Albus chuckled at the flabbergasted expressions of the students, before conjuring a professional sized dueling arena, complete with the shields around it. “Well, Mr. Black, everything other than the unforgivables and fiendfyre is allowed. Also, please don’t attack the audience this time.”, he said, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Oh, er – yeah, I’m sorry for that one.”, he said grinning sheepishly, before closing is eyes and drawing upon his anger, and he once again found himself wondering how terrible and yet amazing this power was.

He thought about the slap, the night in the hospital wing, Grimmauld place, and all the times he had ended up in the hospital wing because of them. He thought about how much their betrayal had hurt him, and the joy he had gotten from hurting them and giving them nightmares.

He opened his eyes, and to his joy (and others’ fear), his eyes landed straight on Potter and Granger’s, their eyes wide in fear. _Good, look at that! People tremble when I as much as close my eyes!_

Ron still didn’t know that his eyes had turned that terrifying blue shade, and all of the students had learnt within one day that when that happened, someone was about to learn a lesson.

“Let’s go, old man.”, he said in clipped tones, before two blasting curses made their way towards Albus in a flash. The headmaster easily deflected them, before conjuring 7 mobile shields and sending them towards Ron.

 _Don’t have too much time today, will have to end this one quickly._ , he thought. However, his eyes widened when he saw Ronald smirk at him. with a whispered incantation and the correct wand movement, he conjured 10 black shields, spinning at terrifying speeds, their edges razor sharp. And three of them were heading towards him.

He called back his 7 shields, but in a huge collision of smoke and magic, 7 of Ronald’s shields collided with his blue ones, and all of them were destroyed.

No one noticed the shrieks from beyond the barriers.

In that moment of distraction, two shields headed at his face, and Albus blasted them apart with a single curse. However, the third shield hit his left leg, drawing blood as it cut to muscle and causing him to gasp in pain, before he destroyed it with a wandless finite.

Instinctively, the headmaster conjured a shield and closed his eyes, waiting for Ronald’s _lumos solem_ , but instead of that, he was forced to cover his ears, as Ron had performed a _sonorous maxima_ on his throat, and screeched at the loudest, most dissonant tone he could muster.

Head and ears still ringing, he looked around to look for his opponent, his newly conjured mobile shields whirring around him, but Ron had turned invisible. This time it was the headmaster’s turn to smirk, as he cast a silent _‘homenum revelio’_ , revealing Ron a few feet to his right.

Before Ron could even comprehend what was going on, 4 shields were flying towards him, and he had to cast his own shield charm to disintegrate them. _Well, time for my favourite spell!_

Roaring, while slashing his wand in the familiar movement, he cast _‘INCENDIO MAXIMA!’,_ and the sea of flame that he had grown fond of erupted form his wand, heading towards Albus Dumbledore. Ron knew that he would take all of 5 seconds to get rid of the flames, and all the past times, he had been unable to utilize the window, but this time, he would.

At a speed which made his wrist hurt, he cast three whispered _‘Reflectitur Bombardas’_ on the ceiling and the walls of the cage, all of them at an angle to head towards the wizard. As expected, they were met with the bang of a shield being destroyed.

Ron had always wondered what would happen if an _incarcerous_ was on fire, and here was his opportunity.

 _‘INCARCEROUS!’,_ he bellowed, and multiple, thick, black ropes erupted from his wand, heading straight for the wizard, just as he got rid of the flames. The timing was perfect, and instead of being destroyed, the ropes caught fire and were heading towards Dumbledore. Sadly, he managed to banish the ropes, which instead headed straight towards Ron.

 _Shit!_ He managed to block most of them (no use dodging magical ropes), but the last one made contact with his ribs, causing him to _almost_ double over in pain. This was quite possibly the worst dueling injury he had ever received (excluding internal injuries), and merlin did it burn.

He made to cast a stunner at his opponents, but before he could complete the movement, a red ball of light appeared before him. _wh –_ was his last thought, before the sphere exploded, throwing red stunners in every direction, at least 6 of them heading his way.

His shields managed to block three but the rest hit him head on, and he was flung across the arena, eyes closed and unconscious, with slight internal bleeding (signaled by a little bit of blood on his lips)

*************

Harry Potter’s POV

Harry was standing outside the wards, watching the duel between Dumbledore and Ron, his jaw open in shock. He could hear several of the girls shrieking (including Hermione, whose hands were on her face, nails drawing blood), as the two wizards threw deadly spells at each other.

What sort of a spell created such a huge wall of flame, towering over all the students, and how on earth did he manage to do magic on Dumbledore’s level? Not to mention, those black discs could have easily decapitated a person, and he had quite possible hamstrung the older wizard.

And now, Ron had been flung across the room by _three_ stunners, and his limp body was leaning against the wall, a small trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

And the most shocking part? Dumbledore wasn’t even fazed. Instead of rushing around in panic at nearly killing his own student, he simply sighed in annoyance, but with a fondness still clearly audible in his voice, and dismissed the class, before flashing Ron to the hospital wing with his phoenix.

During lunch, Ron didn’t turn up, and instead, his absence was filled with whispers. “Did Black really duel Dumbledore?”, one 2nd year hufflepuff asked him on the way to the great hall, and Harry just nodded mutely.

He and Hermione had tried to visit him in the hospital wing, but Madam Pomfrey had straight up told them to get out, in a voice not so different from Olivander’s all those days ago. It looked like Ron had earned a lot of friends. _And we have earned a lot of enemies._

As he sat in Potions, dreading another lesson with Snape, the door suddenly burst open, and in came running Ron, his face flushed, no doubt from his traipse through the school, his hair a mess, and his tie loose. And despite the rift between them Harry had to resist the urge to jump and hug him, right in front of Snape.

“Mr. Black”, he drawled. “5 points from Slytherin for being late.”, and there were several groans from the snakes.

“Sir, I er – was in the hospital wing due to injuries sustained in a duel against the headmaster.”, he said, while grinning sheepishly and scratching the back of his neck, like it was perfectly normal to do so.

And instead of exploding on him, Snape simply nodded in acceptance. “Well, then go sit with your partner, Mr. Nott. I hope you earned us some points?”

“Yes sir, after the duel, the headmaster rewarded me with 30 points for use of spells way above 5th year.”, he said with a grin, and even Snape smirked at him.

“Well done”, he commended, _actually commended Ron,_ the boy he had antagonized for 4 fricking years!

However, as soon as Ron was back in his seat, Snape had reverted back to his cold, git self, intent on torturing the Gryffindors, all while favouring his snakes.

Today, they were brewing a pepper up potion, and Harry was struggling to attain the correct color, while his partner, Hermione, was already brewing it at full speed, as expected. However, to everyone’s surprise (mostly Hermione and Harry), Ron had whipped one up in 10 minutes, and presented two vials of steaming red potion at Snape’s table.

“The color and smell are perfect, Mr. Black. However, I can’t be sure if it performs its function properly.”, he said after a moment of examining the potion, and even though his face was blank, his eyes were smug.

In front of him, Ron simply smiled before downing the _entire second vial_ in one gulp, and Harry couldn’t stop the exclamation of ‘WHAT!’, leaving his mouth, for which he lost 5 points. Ron was never good at potions, and it was painfully obvious to anyone that it would have disastrous consequences.

Instead, to everyone’s shock, Ron’s face turned red, his ears began to steam, and a few seconds later, it was clear that he had just been energized; the exact function of his potion. “Excellent, Mr. Black.”, Snape said with a smirk. “15 points to Slytherin.”

“Oh, and Potter, no need to be surprised. I have discovered quite a few….talents, since I moved away from the shadows of the Boy – who – did – nothing – but – live, and Ms. Know – It – all, though it doesn’t look like she knows anything at all now, does it.”, he commented openly as he walked down the aisle, causing Harry’s blood to boil, before it quickly cooled down, replaced by what he imagined was something akin to muck on the road – dirty, lifeless, depressed. However, he did have a point. None of them had ever recognized his talents, and he was simply unfurling his wings now.

 _Maybe….Maybe I was the one hindering him._ In just two months, he had accomplished stuff that no one had even _dreamed_ him capable of. Emancipation, Dueling Dumbledore, potions mastery, getting his name in the papers, re sorting to Slytherin, Lord of house Black, and openly telling the ministry to go bugger.

Harry felt he was losing his best mate. _Oh, shut up. you lost him that night in the hospital wing itself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, the first part of the chapter which I said I would change. I was honestly surprised when I managed to complete this in a single day, but I ain't complaining! Though...I will warn you, the next update might take a bit longer than usual, because I have to add at least 5000 words to it.  
> Anyways, hits, kudos, and comments are always welcome, and you have no idea how you guys reading my work makes my day. Also, I am really surprised at the rate this fic is picking up hits - never thought that there were so many Ron fans out there! Kudos to you guys!  
> Anyways - fic of the day:  
> How to succeed in dark wizardry (without really trying) by technically_direct  
> Another Dark, but not evil Ron fic, which I'm really enjoying! Has one of the best internal Ron dialogues I've ever read.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I do not own Harry Potter and i don't mean to earn any money from this fic.

Chapter 8: Goblins, and the ascension of Lord Black

Ronald Weasley’s POV

Potions had been excellent. He had earned Slytherin’s favour by insulting Potter and Granger, along with earning 45 house points in one lesson. (he had more or less memorized the pepper up recipe by now. He had made quite a few batches of them to get his energy back up after a grueling dueling session).

Now, he was in the Headmaster’s, eccentric as usual office, waiting for permission to go to Gringotts. “Alright Ron, however, you will need a teacher to accompany you.”, he said, after a second of consideration.

“Ok, but who has enough time to take me along?”

“Ah, yes.”, he said with a smile, and at that instant, professor McGonagall walked into the office. “Minerva, if you could do me a favour by accompanying young Ronald to Gringotts.”

“Of course, headmaster.”, she responded, sending a quick glance at him, no doubt wondering what he would want at Gringotts. _Bloody hell, I just want to check out the Black Vault and estates. Wait, property?_

“Er – professor, since I’m Black Lord now, isn’t Grimmauld Place technically under my control?”, he asked tentatively. _Sounds like wonderful bargain and blackmail material to me._

“Hmm”, the headmaster said, frowning at him. “Yes, Ronald. Though, I can’t help but wonder, what you would want with the order HQs”

“Oh, nothing professor. It could just make for some useful bargain material later on.”, he responded with a wave of his wand. Dumbledore looked conflicted, but let the matter rest.

McGonagall activated the floo, before the two walked in and fireplaced to Gringotts, and Ron once again felt that uncomfortable dizzy feeling. _What the bloody hell was that?_

However, all uncomfortable travel problems were thrown out of the window, as he looked around the atrium, at the people who were staring at him in disgust, no doubt having read Skeeter’s article. And though Ron tried to ignore their stares and whispers, he couldn’t deny the fact that they cut deep. _Just you wait…I’m gonna teach all of you a lesson._

However, to Ron’s surprise, the goblins were happy to see him again. “Ah, Ron, I see you’ve come here again, and with much more wealth to your name.’, Silverknuckle greeted with a sharp grin full of pointed, yellow teeth.

“Yup, Silverknuckle. I just wanted to check out the Black Vaults and properties.”, he responded with a smile, as he showed the goblin his ring to ascertain his lordship.

Behind him, he didn’t notice McGonagall gaping at him in shock. A Goblin and a human holding a civil conversation and treating the other as equals was never heard of, and yet, here Ron was, talking with the goblin as if he were an old friend. _Merlin…he never seems to do anything normally, does he?_

“Ah, don’t worry, Ron. Come with me.”, the goblin responded, beckoning him towards the carts.

*****************

To say that Ron was queasy would have been an understatement. He felt like vomiting down into the abyss of the Gringotts vaults, and then dry heaving till his stomach itself came out of his mouth. _On second thought, that was a very disgusting image_.

The black vault was in the deepest parts of the cavern, and the cart ride was plain horrible. However, even though the larger part of his mind was telling him that he was ill only due to the cart ride which had thrown him all over the place, there was still another tiny part that was scared that he was ill. He had noticed that magical transportation always left him like this, and he just hoped that it wasn’t serious.

“Ronald, are you alright?”, professor McGonagall asked, a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Just…nausea.”, he said waving her off. However, what he wasn’t expecting, was for her to hand him a sap green potion.

“Drink it, anti - nausea potion.”, she said, seeing his raised eyebrows, and Ron swallowed it down quickly. It tasted horrible, like dragon dung and mandrake screams ( _wait, mandrake screams? What’s wrong with me)_ , but it did settle his roiling stomach in a few seconds, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Thank you, professor.”, he said, before turning to the vault door in front of him, and Merlin, was it impressive! The vault had been carved right into the wall of the cavern, a huge, black iron door standing in front of him, tall and imposing. The archway around the entrance had elaborate carvings on it, which Ron had thought at first to be beautiful. However, upon a closer inspection, he saw that they were depictions of the Blacks torturing muggles. _Merlin’s beard, these guys are seriously twisted._

He watched on as Silverknuckle put a hand to a space on the archway, and the door literally melted and fell into the ground, to reveal the most gold Ron had ever seen in his life.

As he walked in, his eyes were wide open, his jaw was hanging, and he didn’t even notice the bit of drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth until the professor shut his jaw with a flick of her wand. “Pay attention, Ron!”, she scolded, though there was a small smile playing on her lips at his flabbergasted expression.

“Oh! – er, Silverknuckle, how much money is there in the Black vault?”, he asked after jumping at his suddenly closed jaw.

“This is just the largest of the 5 Black Vaults, and this one alone contains 190,000 Galleons. The total Black wealth in money is around 300,000 Galleons, discounting the estates.”, he informed in a crisp and business tone, which Ron vaguely recognized as an unhappy one.

Everywhere he looked, there were piles upon piles of golden Galleons, the light shining off them, blinding him. Along with the money, there were countless pieces of jewelry, weapons, swords, wands, all of which were clearly goblin made, and there were also several tomes of book, clearly containing dark and blood magic.

_Wait, Goblin made….don’t the Goblins think that all Goblin made items are rightfully theirs? I wonder…_

“Hey, Silverknuckle, how many goblin - made items are in the Black vaults?”, he asked, turning to his client, who seemed taken aback by the question.

“Almost 60,000 worth in goblin made items.”, he grumbled sullenly after a moment of hesitation.

“Silverknuckle, I want all Goblin made items in the Black vaults returned to the Goblin nation, as they are their rightful owners.”, he ordered, shocking both McGonagall and Silverknuckle, whose jaw was open and eyes were wide. His mouth open and closed like a goldfish a few times, no doubt trying to figure out what to say, until he swallowed and finally managed to speak.

“W – why?”, he asked, still in shock, his voice stuttering, which was something a goblin _never_ did.

“Remember that conversation about prejudice we had? Take this as a symbol of goodwill towards the Goblins.”, he answered.

“But, but there must be some ulterior motive behind this!”

Ron sighed, before deciding to tell him the truth. “I’m not gonna lie, yes, I do have an ulterior motive, and that is to earn the favour of the Goblins.”, he answered truthfully. The goblin looked at him, as if trying to discern if he was lying or not for a few seconds, before he gave him a true, genuine smile.

“Well, Ron, then you have clearly succeeded. We will have the items returned by today midnight, and I’m sure you’ll have the full support of our nation after this. Now, if you would please accompany me.”, he said, leading him to the carriage.

However, Ron had other plans. “Hey, hold on a sec!”, he shouted, running to the books, and picking a tome with the least dark title he could find, _(the most powerful spells made by wizard kind),_ shrunk it, before running back to the cart, where McGonagall was looking at him worriedly.

“Which tome did you take, Ron?”, she asked with a small frown. “Oh, this one.”, he said, removing the book and holding it before her. She stared at it for a few seconds, before nodding in approval.

_I need to check out a few more dark spells. No matter how powerful these spells might be, you need dark magic to defeat Voldemort._

A few minutes which felt like hours later, they once more arrived in the lobby, except this time, there was a small crowd of Goblins who were staring at him in awe, though it was sullied with a healthy dose of mistrust.

“Is it true, what you did down there?”, one of the older Goblins asked skeptically.

“Yes, and in case you ask what my ulterior motives are, I do this as a show of gratitude towards you guys, and also as I hope to earn the favour of the Goblin nation.”, he replied, getting a tad annoyed. But then again, these guys had lived under the wizards for centuries. _Even I would’ve been as paranoid as Moody in their place._

There was silence for a moment, before a voice came from his right, “Well then, guess you do have our favour, client Black!”, and the red head turned to see a Goblin. Except this one had long hair, er – _assets,_ and definitely feminine facial features. Ron had never seen a female goblin before.

“Er – please call me Ron.”, he answered, a bit flustered under the collar as the goblin _was_ quite hot. _What the fuck is wrong with you, Black! You’re lusting after a bloody Goblin here! Human + Goblin = CATASTROPHE!_

_Imagine what she would look under those uniform clothes…_

_SNAPE IN A BIKINI! DUMBLEDORE IN A BIKINI! SNAPE AND MCGONAGALL SHAGGING!_

_She’s right beyond you!_

_AH, JUST FUCKING SHUT UP!_

“Alright…Ron, please follow me.”, the older goblin from the beginning called, taking him over to a table where three other Goblins were staring at him in shock.

“Ron, since you are the first Wizard ever to actually treat our kind as equals and respect our traditions, we would like to present you with a small token of gratitude.”, he said in a sagely voice, while simultaneously ripping the velvet cloth covering some item on the desk.

As soon as the item was in view, Ron’s jaw dropped open in shock and awe. There, in front of him, was a real goblin made, three – pronged Morningstar. Yes, complete with the leather handle, encrusted jewels, and iron spiked balls which could be swung menacingly, deadly enough to kill a person with one stroke.

“Merlin…”, Ron breathed, still in shock at the present. “W – b – but this is too much!”, he protested, finally regaining use of his tongue.

“No, Ron, you must accept this.”, the Goblin said, this time with a dangerous edge to his voice, causing Ron to gulp in fear. Goblins, with their sharp teeth and beady black and gold eyes, sure could look intimidating when they wanted to.

Completely ignoring his words, the goblin (whose name Ron now knew was Argault from his badge), continued on with his speech. “Now, Mr. Black, this weapon is specifically enchanted to be able to appear to the wielder’s hand at will. All you need to do is prick your finger on one of the spikes to let your blood be infused into the metal.”

Ron looked at the imposing spikes with a bit of apprehension, before taking a quick breath. _Seriously Black, you’re worried about a small prick after all you’ve done to yourself?_

_This thing looks like it could suck out all my blood, leaving me more wrinkled than Merlin’s arsehole._

In one swift motion, Ron had brought forth his hand and pricked his thumb on one of the spikes. _Ouch! That was far sharper than I thought!_ His blood was already trickling down the spike, making it look especially deadly, almost as if it was a sentient beast, what with the sunlight reflecting of it, and the sinister crimson on it.

A few seconds later, the weapon glowed golden for a second, before the entire thing simply disappeared. _What?_ “Now, Ron, try and call it to your hand. Imagine the way it would feel, and it will appear in your right hand.”

Ron closed his eyes and tried to imagine the weapon sitting in his hand, him wielding it, spinning it around his arm and leaving a wave of destruction in his path. There was a soft pop, and Ron suddenly felt his right hand sink a bit at the added weight, as the weapon had just appeared in his grasp.

Moving a few steps back, he spun it slowly, trying to get a feel for it while not accidentally killing someone or himself. The leather felt warm and powerful in his hands, and the spiked metal spheres made a whooshing sound as they spun around his right arm, flying through the air like lethal projectiles. The weapon was lighter than expected, but he would still need a bit of practice to perfect his wielding.

_Hmmmm, imagine me swinging it at a death eater. I could call it ‘Crunch goes the death eater!’_

“Thank you for this wonderful gift, Mr. Argault, and to the entire goblin nation. I will forever be grateful for this.”, he thanked sincerely with a slight bow after vanishing the weapon. He could almost feel the Goblins’ eyes widening in surprise, but they too bowed to him. _noticeably lower than I did to them. Gods, these guys have been seriously oppressed their entire lives._

“Now, could I go and visit the largest properties under my name?”, he asked a bit impatiently, because Merlin, did he want to visit Black Manor.

“Surely, Mr. Black, but do bring along your professor.”, Argault said, walking towards the fireplace, while Ron jogged over to where a very confused McGonagall was surrounded by a horde of Goblins, and he had to resist a chuckle at the sight.

Together, the three of them apparated to Black Manor, and Ron found himself face to face, once again, with a huge black iron gate, though this time much more menacing, with the Black crest on it. It had huge spikes on it, and a whole bunch of barbs decorating the front of it.

“Once more, you’ll need a blood test on the gate to gain access, Ron.”, the goblin said cheerfully, and Ron sighed in annoyance. In a trice, he had cut his finger on one of the barbs, causing his blood to drip down. For the second time that day, there was a bright flash, before the gates slowly swung inwards, giving them access to the manor.

With a growing sense of anticipation and his heart threatening to tear out of his chest, he stiffly walked into the properties, and he had to rub his eyes to ascertain that the sight before him was truly all his.

The manor, for lack of better word, was humongous.

There was a long, elegantly decorated and lighted path leading up to the manor itself. The path was flanked with well - maintained bushes, beyond which sprawled acres of beautifully gardens and meadows. _And is that a fucking fairy?_

But then, there was the manor itself, which was simply huge, big enough to rest hundreds of people easily. It was three storied, and Ron was pretty sure that this one building contained everything from a spa, a ball room, to, most importantly, a dueling room.

And the most enticing part? Ron could almost _feel_ the magic, an equal mix of light and dark pouring from the walls of the structure, calling him closer, beckoning him, filling him with that warm feeling whenever he performed dark or blood magic.

“Ron?”, McGonagall called, breaking him out of his magic addled stupor. “You just stared at the manor, and then began walking to it.”, she said worriedly, and only then did Ron notice that he was only a few meters from the entrance to the manor itself.

“Oh, nothing. Just ….can you feel the magic pouring off this thing? Yea, that sort of pulled me to it”. He explained, or at least tried to.

McGonagall frowned at him. “Huh, I see what you mean by that, but for me, the magic repulses me. It’s clearly dark. Evil.”, she said. _Oh no._

“Well, I too feel the um…Dark magic, but along with that there’s also something …ancient, powerful, and that’s what draws me to it.”, he made up, and she luckily seemed to buy it.

“Hmmmm, I think…that you might be sensing the ward stone.”, she said, and Ron drew a blank. _What the hell is a ward stone?_

“Come, Mr. Black, let me show you the ward stone.”

“More blood?”, Ron groaned.

“Yes, Ron, more blood.”, the Goblin replied with a devious smirk.

Together, the trio descended into the dungeons (a place that Ron had to ask the manor to show him, as he was the lord of the place. Pureblood family manors sure were confusing), where they finally entered a dark cavern with a large, glowing blue stone in the center with countless runes inscribed all over it. _Imagine Herm – Granger being here, she’d go mad!_

“Here, you have to chant this 3 times, with your bleeding hands on the ward stone. Let me warn you, it will hurt quite a bit.”, The goblin said, this time serious for once.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m used to all types of pain.”, he responded with a decidedly deranged smile, and he didn’t notice McGonagall shudder at the implication.

Ron snatched up the paper from his hands and read it silently. It looked Latin, but wasn’t exceptionally hard to pronounce.

With a silver knife handed to him by the goblin, he calmly, with the slightest flinch at the pain, slit both his hands deep enough to draw blood, and placed them on the ward stone.

 _“Ego Dominus Ronald Alphard Black, quid me vivo hac re iuro fidelitatis in aeternum fani antiquissimi et nobilissimi Black domum, et implere universa promittere Dominus ad introitum meum huius domus. Et sic, ego omni custodia ambiente dici potestatem hoc manerio.”_ , he chanted from the paper which McGonagall was holding in front of him, trying his best to ignore his burning hands.

The blood seemed to be flowing much faster, and by his third repetition, the entire rock was dripping with blood. Not to mention, the stone was painfully hot and he was unable to get his hands off of it.

The Runes seemed to be glowing at the blood which they were being bathed in, only getting stronger due to it. The overall room must have looked quite sinister to anyone who came in at the moment, - what with Ron chanting strange words from a near extinct language, the goblin and McGonagall watching on with sick fascination, and the blood flowing down the stone pedestal, dripping onto the floor in a crimson torrent.

Finally, when the ritual was done, Ron stumbled back, dizzy from blood loss, only to stumble into his professor who held him up. “You alright?”, she asked, openly worried now.

“Here, drink some blood replenishing potion.”, Argault said, handing him a vial of the maroon potion, which Ron gulped down with violently shaking hands before he could pass out. Immediately, a warm feeling filled him, and he could almost feel the blood increasing in his veins, breathing new life into him.

But that didn’t stop McGonagall from putting him in a body bind, and levitating him for a quick trip of the manor, much to Argault’s amusement.

But even though the only body part he could move for the entire trip had been his facial features and neck (he was silenced due to his constant nagging), the manor truly was impressive from both the outside and inside. The dueling room had some excellent equipment, the ball room was gorgeous, and the library was huge, not that Ron would spend too much time there. Even though he had started reading, he only like reading about practical magic and spells, not random stuff like Granger used to.

He also found out that the manor was run by a small army of ten house elves, who were hell bent on being present at his every beck and call, much to his chagrin. So instead, he told them to relax, and gave them all a ‘uniform’, not clothes, which would signify that they were free. Not to mention, he told them to take a holiday once a week, and thanked them, genuinely, for all their work.

An hour later, they were back in Hogwarts, having left Argault back at Gringotts. They were currently in the headmaster’s office, Ron and McGonagall sipping on cups of tea to drive the exhaustion away from their bones.

“So, I take that your trip went well?”, Dumbledore said with a smile.

“Oh, yes! In fact, it went better than expected!”, he responded cheerfully, before taking a step back, and summoning his Morningstar (Christmas, as he had named him during their ‘tour’ of the manor) to his hand, and the looks of awe on Dumbledore’s and McGonaggal’s faces were worth it.

“Where did you get it?”, Dumbledore asked after a moment of awed silence. “The goblins gifted it to me, as a token of friendship for returning all the Goblin made articles in the Black vaults.”, he explained, feeling a bit proud at managing to awe Albus Dumbledore.

“Merlin.”, he breathed, reclining back in his chair, and even Fawkes gave a trill of approval. “You’re already creating huge waves in the politics of the country.”, Albus started worriedly. “You are making a lot of enemies, and very quickly, Ron, and that includes the order and the minister.”

“Doesn’t matter”, he said, waving off the problem. “No insult to you, professor, but the Order is currently just a bunch of incompetent idiots who have no chance against Voldemort and his death eaters. And the minister, well, I don’t think he’s going to go against me anytime soon. I mean, I embarrassed his own newspaper, with the _truth,_ in front of all of Hogwarts.”

“But still, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Also, what have you named your weapon?”, he asked, shifting the topic.

“Oh, I’ve named it Christmas, for being my favourite holiday.”, he replied with a small blush. “Hmmm, a very childish name.”, Albus taunted.

“Hey! Even I’m entitled to some fun now and then!”

**************

Sirius Black’s POV

However, while Ron had been away on his excursion, the rest of the world hadn’t been at a standstill, and several other events had taken place in that time. The list included the reactions of the Order, the ministry, and the Slytherins as well.

Sirius Black had been in Buckbeak’s room, tending to the great beast with a bottle of butterbeer kept carelessly in the corner. In fact, he had been spending most of his time in this room, trying to drown out his worry for his godson and his utter boredom in the therapeutic process of tending to a hippogriff.

His entire mind was fixed on his hand and the wet rag it held tightly, as it rubbed up and down along the shiny talons of the magical creature, when Molly Weasley burst into his safe haven, face red from exertion, panting, and the latest edition of the daily prophet in her hands.

“Sirius! Look at this!”, she screeched, breaking him out of the trance he’d fallen into, having had nothing but the rhythmic movements of his own arm and the grunts of the hippogriff for any sort of mental stimuli.

At once, he was up, wand in hand, his eyes looking for any sign of trouble. Molly clearly looked shocked, fearful, and worried, and Sirius felt his blood freeze in his veins at the thought of his godson being in trouble.

“What is it, Molly?”, he asked frantically, grasping her shoulders tight enough to leave frazzled. In that moment, with his grimy hands, overgrown hair and beard, and the crazed look in his eyes…Molly was reminded of how her …. son, had described him in his account of what had conspired in the shrieking shack. And gods, did she wonder how Ron had managed to stand up to this man and dare him to go past him, that too with a shattered leg.

A sharp jolt of guilt and pain ran through her, causing her to close her eyes to stop the tears from falling as she remembered the _countless_ mistakes she’d made in regard to her youngest son.

Suddenly, Sirius felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and he looked up from Molly’s terrified face to see Remus looking at him from over her head, a guilty expression marring his handsome features.

“Calm down, Molly, Sirius.”, he said, using the same tone of voice he’d used in that goddamned meeting which had ruined Ron’s life. “Let’s go down to the meeting room, and we’ll think it all over down there, alright?”

 _Alright, so no one’s in trouble, and Voldemort hasn’t shown up. So why the bloody hell do these guys look so troubled?_ Despite the questions having a ball in his mind, he followed Remus and a sobbing Molly down the steps and into the meeting room, desperate for answers.

The moment he entered the room, he knew that whatever had happened, it had to be _big,_ in order to have caused so many Order members to have come in. All four Weasleys who were also Order members sat in a miserable huddle on one corner of the table, Shacklebolt, Moody, Elphias, Fletcher and Remus were gathered around the table, talking in hushed whispers, with the object of their discussion being the copy of the daily prophet in the center of the table. _All that’s left is Dumbledore turning up with his phoenix._

“Alright, can any of you tell my what the ruddy hell is going on in here?”, he demanded, flopping onto a chair which had been reserved for him right next to the dark skinned auror. In response, Shacklebolt slid the newspaper over to him, a worried grimace on his face.

At once, he picked up the paper, and read through it quick enough to make his eyes hurt. As the letters, words, and sentences registered in his mind, he felt his eyes growing exponentially wider in shock, and even a certain sense of victory.

Once it was completed, he placed the paper back on the table, and did nothing but blink at Remus for a few moments, too shocked to produce any proper reaction. On one hand, he was still in shock at the news that _Ron_ of all people had become a head of his ‘family’, which was probably the darkest family in all of Magical Britain.

He felt anger, at the fact that Rita Skeeter had turned his accomplishment into something criminal, and this article would no doubt cause him a lot of trouble later on.

There was also a sense of dark, vindictive pleasure he felt at the fact that Ron had given the Weasleys as good as they had given him. Though….even he felt that _emancipation_ was a bit too much, because he could see that the Weasleys were good people at heart. Though, what they had been thinking during the meeting was beyond him, and in his mind, Ronald couldn’t be blamed for wanting to hurt them as much as possible, and to get away from them in order to just be _free._

In that aspect, he felt kinship towards toward the young redhead, as both of them had been thrown away by their families, and both had run away as well. Apparently, he was a pseudo – seer, for his words in the first meeting, stating that he saw a lot of himself in Ron, had in fact just become a lot truer.

Then, there was worry for the teenager, something which he shared with the Weasleys. Because, when someone like Ron who never had anything of his own his entire life, suddenly found the entire Black wealth in his possession …. there was a large chance of things going pear shaped. And then, there was obviously the fact the Voldemort would be after Ron for his wealth, and no matter how good he was at dueling, _no one_ stood a chance against that monster.

And finally, deep within the darkest, vilest recesses of his mind, the part which was birthed from spending too much time near dark magic and people like his biological family…..he felt _envy._ Bitter, dark, acidic envy which clogged his veins and made him feel enraged, while somehow, simultaneously making him feel like the most wretched human being on the planet.

Because Ron, had not only lied to him about being adopted into his cousin’s family, but had had pretty much everything he’d ever need in his life, handed to him on a silver platter, while Sirius himself had had to beg for James’s family’s help – something he still felt ashamed of. Because, despite all the help James Potter had given him, he hadn’t been able to save his life.

_SHUT UP! How could you feel envious, of someone who was literally thrown away by The Weasleys for not being good enough? He’s earned the Black Lordship, and besides, it’s not like you ever wanted anything to do with those monsters, did you? _

No…he shouldn’t be envious, because it was _wrong._ And Sirius had vowed long ago to always stand on the side of the light, to be a person better than his family members. Feeling envious of a hurt, lonely child, for the sole reason that he _earned_ the Black wealth was something a _good_ person wouldn’t do.

Slowly, a defiant grin spread across his features, an expression which he had missed so dearly. There’d always been something inherently fun about insulting authority figures, whether they be the ministry, or his family.

He turned to Remus, who looked like he’d aged fifteen years in a single hour. “So, Remus. Didn’t I tell you that Ron would go ahead and show that he wouldn’t just lie down and take a punch? That he would stand up to his family, like _I did?”_

The Weasleys and Remus visibly flinched at his accusing tone, and though on the outside Sirius had a triumphant grin on his face, inside, he was chanting one mantra over and over again, his expression hiding the turmoil within.

_Don’t feel envious. You have to be a good person. Don’t feel envious. You have to be the good person._

Because, you see, of all the Blacks, Sirius Arcturus Black had always been the best at hiding his emotions. And no one, had ever even come close to his skill at concealing bad memories and emotional scars behind carefully constructed masks.

Sixteen years with the Blacks, and another twelve in Azkaban did that to a person.

00000000000000

Remus Lupin’s POV

Guilt.

That was probably the only emotion Remus John Lupin, ex Hogwarts professor, werewolf, and Order of the Phoenix member had known for the past few weeks.

He, the one who prided himself for having a clear, concise mind at all times, and his decision – making skills, had probably led the Order to the worst mistake it had ever made.

For quite a while after he had initiated _that_ meeting, he had been satisfied with his decision, deluding himself into believing that it was for the Greater Good. _Would you look at that? I used Grindelwald’s ideology at that time, and didn’t even bat an eye! Clearly, I am the monster the public thinks me to be._ In his arrogance, he had not noticed the Weasley family’s defeated expressions, Hermione’s usually energized eyes becoming lost and empty, and Harry, _James’s son,_ crying himself to sleep every night.

He hadn’t noticed Sirius’s accusing eyes, how Tonks would glare at him every once in a while, and he hadn’t even spared a second thought for what Ron would’ve been doing at Hogwarts during the summer.

And then, when Ron turned up at Grimmauld Place, way more powerful and _darker_ than before, and had effortlessly defeated over half the Order, realization and guilt had kicked in like a punch to the gut. The way Ron eyed the Order members, how he controlled them as easily as breathing was for him, and the sheer power he radiated from his being – they made one thing clear.

Pushing him away had been a mistake. A mistake which had killed Ronald Weasley, and birthed a demon, intent on vengeance.

After the meeting, he’d sat huddled in the meeting room, staring at the fireplace as he tried and failed to find any logical reason for his actions. At that moment, it was almost like he’d been in a delirious haze the past months, and Ron’s appearance had washed it away like cold water washed away any last trace of sleepiness.

I.e., without any preamble, snatching it away so abruptly that the loss of ignorance’s warm embrace almost hurt.

Then Dora had walked into the room and sent such a cold, ashamed, _disgusted_ glare at him, that it made him wince. That look from the metamorphmagus auror hurt much more than he was willing to admit.

And yet, when Tonks had come to HQs the very next day and had found him lying in his bed, drowning in his guilt at the amount of pain he’d caused to others, she’d taken one look at him before giving him a small kiss. On the lips.

And then, she’d held him close and whispered words of comfort, telling him that everyone made mistakes, that Ron would be alright, that he could still amend his error in judgement, and that she….she loved him.

She had been the only bright thing in his life for the time after Ron had arrived at headquarters, his bright and colourful flower in the darkness.

He had been unable to understand why she loved him, and even now, he had no idea why. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. He didn’t deserve _anyone’s_ forgiveness! And couldn’t she see that he was _dangerous?_ That he might kill her at any time due to his status as a werewolf? And at least, previously the only obstacle had been his furry little problem, but now…well, the results had manifested themselves in the form of a red headed killing machine.

Why would she ever fall in love with a _child- killer?_ A Betrayer who split families?

And then, again, he’d received undeserved aid from Ron, who’d walked in on him and Tonks, who he now knew was his sister, snogging. And instead of cursing him, like he’d expected, even hoped, he’d just come up to him and told him straight to his face that he didn’t like him, while also giving him advice on insecurities.

 _Quite ironic that the boy whose insecurities I targeted, just gave me advice on my own ones.,_ he had thought, while trying his best not to meet the teenager’s piercing gaze.

And now, as he sat on in the meeting room of Grimmauld Place while others discussed the latest developments around him, he felt the guilt, which he’d somehow managed to bottle up behind his occlumency shields, breaking past them and flooding his body like hot fire, burning him up from the inside.

“So, Lupin, what do you say we do if Black tells us to get off his property?”, barked Moody, nudging him in the shoulder to snap him out of his reverie.

“Huh?”, he mumbled, neck snapping up with an audible crack. “I…I have no idea. Will he even do something like that?”, he asked, though he was trying to assure himself more than his friends.

For a moment, his mind was thrown back to his childhood, in his first year at Hogwarts, before Sirius and James had found him, before he discovered what friendship and love meant. He remembered himself shrinking into himself at the insults and taunts the other children used to throw at him every day.

_“Hey you! What’s up with those ugly scars on your face? And what with the shaggy pelt? What are you, a dog? Werewolf?”, yelled a Slytherin in his year from across the corridor. And the worst part? He knew that the boy was right. He was a monster, a werewolf, nothing better than an animal._

_Suddenly, an orange hex went flying over his head and hit the boy, causing nasty boils to erupt on his face. Remus watched on in shock and a strange sense of awe as he fell to the ground, scratching at his face frantically._

_“Better keep your snake - y nose away from us!”, yelled a voice he didn’t recognize. Well, to be honest, he didn’t recognize any voices at all, as he never spent any time with others, afraid of what they would think of him, do to him, should they discover his secret._

_“Come along, Lupin. You really need a few new robes.”, said another voice pulling him along, though his voice carried no mockery, no veiled insult. It was quite strange to hear someone talk to him without calling him names._

_He turned around and came face to face with two boys in his house – James Potter, and Sirius Black, the two greatest delinquents of the entire school. Sirius’s grey eyes were gleaming with mischief and righteous anger as he looked at the Slytherin, while James quickly began transfiguring his clothes. Or at least trying to, because such complex transfigurations were way above their level._

_Later that day, was the first time he learnt what it felt like to have friends, to have fun, and the warm feeling which having someone stand up for you felt like. And from the very first instant, he knew that he loved that feeling, and would do anything to hold it close to his heart forever._

“Shut up, Moody!”, hissed Sirius, finally having had enough. “He made a mistake, big thing. Even you abandoned Ron, didn’t you? So, stop making him feel more terrible than he already is. And don’t worry, Ron won’t do anything like that, I’ll send him a letter telling him not to.”

Moody glared at him, but didn’t say anything more. Remus sent a genuinely confused and guilty look towards Sirius, who simply shrugged nonchalantly before getting up.

“You know what?”, he said, using the same tone he used to employ while insulting his family. “This meeting has been absolutely pointless, because all you idiots have done is nothing, but point fingers. Ron attained the Black wealth and properties, big deal. He won’t go ahead and do anything bad, because a) I trust the kid, and b) Dumbledore will surely be keeping an eye on him, and prevent him from kicking us out.”

“And besides, even if he decided to kick us out, can you really blame him, after all we did to him?”, he asked, and no one uttered a response. The Weasleys and Remus looked guilty, Shacklebolt looked like he was pondering the statement, and Moody, strangely, had a blank expression on his scarred face.

“Thought so.”, huffed out Sirius, before walking over to him and dragging him out of the room by the arm. “Oh, and this meeting is over! Go back to your jobs, or wherever you were!”, he yelled while kicking the door shut with a bang.

“You, Moony, need to stop being such a bloody self - deprecating prick all the time.”, he muttered, while pulling him up to his bedroom. The action made the werewolf reminisce about old times, when things had been so much simpler, when there’d been no war, when Padfoot hadn’t been falsely accused.

 _When the two of us had been so deep in love._ He thought as he looked at Sirius’s annoyed, yet fond expression. The sight sent a pained jolt through his heart, as he remembered seeing that expression on his face during their last year of school, when the two of them had been dating in secret.

Yes, Remus _had_ been dating Sirius while James had been to engrossed in Lily, and Peter had been doing …. whatever one did to become a death eater. They both had spent the last three years of school experimenting with their sexualities, until they’d come to the conclusion that they were attracted to both sexes.

Remus himself had begun having that weird, flip – flopping sensation in his gut when Sirius set those enchanting, stormy grey eyes on him, since 4th year. He’d spent the next three years, trying to ignore those feelings, while also doing his best not to blush or pounce on his black haired friend every time he caught sight of the tattoos on his arms, or the way he looked so calm and relaxed, without the walls around him, whenever they went on trips to Hogsmeade.

That was until, on the day after James _finally_ kissed Lily, Sirius had dragged him to a shaded alcove, and out of the blue, crashed his lips onto his in a passionate, bruising kiss. Remus had been shocked, and unable to move, until he finally realized what was happening, and began reciprocating the kiss. They’d made love for the first time on that very night.

Later, he would claim that they’d taken things too fast, but inside, he didn’t regret it one bit, which was _very_ unlike himself, who usually preferred taking things slowly and calmly. In fact, that had probably been the reason his first love had been Sirius, because he was the one person who always managed to get a rise out of him, to make him simply _live_ in the moment instead of meticulously planning every single thing in his life.

Alas, life and Fate just seemed to enjoy trying to break the two of them, but had failed to do so for the past years of their life. Remus, after being turned into a werewolf, had still stayed strong, while Sirius had stood up to his family his entire youth.

However, every person has a breaking point, a point in their life when they just….can’t take it anymore, when they just want nothing more than to lock themselves in a room for all eternity. For Remus and Sirius, the war had been the breaking point.

That last year of school had been the happiest time of his life. For over three hundred days of that year, he’d been floating in heaven, with no woes or worries about the outside world. The only thoughts on his mind for most of the days were Sirius, his toned body, and the way his searing kisses burnt their way down his body, as he writhed and moaned in tune with his ministrations.

But the moment they’d graduated, life came crashing down on them like a gust of cold winter air which carried enough force to knock you off a broom. Suddenly, they’d found themselves in the midst of a raging, countrywide war, led by a madman who was as strong as Dumbledore. And immortal as well, if the rumours were to be believed.

Caught in the throes of war, the two lovers got to spend less and less time together. Sirius was always caught up in his work as an order fighter, while Remus was busy making negotiations with the werewolves, especially those who were afraid of Fenrir Greyback.

But yet, despite them slowly drifting apart, both of them had maintained hope, hope, that one day, after the world’s shit had been dealt with, they could simply lead happy, normal lives. Despite noticing the missed goodbyes, kisses on the cheek, the way they slowly stopped going on their secret tours on Sirius’s flying bike….he noticed these little things, but didn’t say anything.

Instead, Remus had continued deluding himself into thinking that everything was perfect in their cozy little private life. He’d built his castle from delirious, naïve hope, and it had sheltered his heart as well as a tower of cards.

And that was the thing about towers and castles made from cards. Because they, just like castles made of naïve, misplaced hope, looked beautiful on the surface, but inside, they were more fragile than a snowflake.

And when these elegant creations did at last come crashing down, they did so in the most violent, chaotic, and _painful_ way possible.

The news of James and Lily’s death had come like a lightning bolt out of the sky: sudden, unexpected, and most importantly, devastating enough to leave you an inch from death.

He remembered choking on thin air when Dumbledore had told him the news. Even now, with a single thought, he could bring back the feeling of bile rushing up his esophagus like a violent river, before he threw up his breakfast into the nearest hedge.

His mind had gone haywire, his tongue felt too heavy in his throat, and he felt like the most wretched man on the planet. _James…..Lily….They’re dead. Deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead. How dare they leave without us?_

He felt like tearing his mind out, and washing it thoroughly to remove any memory of this news. He wanted to just leap over the legendary wizard, and run off to Godric’s Hollow, because he kept telling himself that _no, James is alright. Lily is perfectly fine. They’ll be there in the Potter home, playing and laughing with little Harry. Dumbledore is lying to me, surely, he is._

But deep inside him, the hyperrational, cold, strangely _hollow_ part of him whispered into his ear, that James and Lily _were_ indeed dead, that Dumbledore wasn’t lying, that he would never see Lily smack James for his language…..that the marauders would never be… _the Marauders_ ever again, because James had been the heart and soul of their little group, and without him, the Marauders, no, the world itself was incomplete.

Later, as he drowned his grief in a bottle of whiskey in some obscure town in the country, he would cynically think that it was quite ironic that he would only _truly_ understand death once the war was done, know how it felt to _understand,_ in a terrible way, what it felt like to never see a loved one’s face ever again. To never hear their laughter, to never see their loving eyes upon you.

The house of cards had come crashing down, landing in one big messy, _ugly_ pile. The castle in the clouds disappeared in a puff of smoke.

But at that moment, something impossible happened to Remus Lupin, something he’d never thought to be even possible. For the first time in his entire life, he’d truly, with all his heart, _hated_ Sirius Arcturus Black, the man who’d stolen his heart, and returned it in tiny pieces. If, he’d ever returned it at all, that was.

Dumbledore had had to restrain him from going and chasing Sir - _Black,_ and torturing him like he’d done to him, to make him pay for betraying James and Lily, but mostly for the pain he had caused him. He wanted to pummel that handsome face until it became an unrecognizable pulp, until the mischievous, attractive, _loving_ twinkle in his eyes vanished forever, until … until he couldn’t use that tongue to crack a witty joke, or until those luscious lips would be in a bad enough state to never be able to touch human skin ever again.

The very next morning, news of his arrest reached him, and he’d read the article through some sort of foggy haze, a mixture of drink and denial. He’d watched Sirius laughing like an insane man through blank, expressionless eyes, before going up to his room, where he spent the next three hours drowning in his own tears.

The next 12 years had been agonizing …. and boring to the point that it was almost painful. Because, strangely, the thing Remus missed the most about their group had been the laughter they brought along, how, with the marauders, you would never stop having fun, or stop laughing.

Those twelve years passed in a sort of hazy, depressed blur for Remus, during which he spent his time hopping from town to town, werewolf coven to werewolf coven. That, had been until news of Sirius’s breakout had reached him, and the years of carefully suppressed emotions and memories had come rushing out in a painful torrent, just like his castle in the clouds had come crashing down all those years ago.

Dumbledore asked him to teach as the DADA professor, and he’d accepted the position…though, Dumbledore’s skills at manipulation, persuasion, and his guilt trips sure did play a major part in it.

However, later, he wouldn’t begrudge him for manipulating him, because when he’d gone on a visit of Hogsmeade, his eyes had fallen on a _very_ familiar black dog with a shaggy coat, its jaw open in an almost comically surprised expression, looking like it hadn’t eaten anything in weeks.

The sight was so painful, and yet, brought back so many fond memories, that he couldn’t help but follow the animal when it trotted over to a dark alcove, so painfully similar to the place where he and Sirius had first kissed.

And then, the dog had transformed into none other than Sirius Black.

Strangely, Remus hadn’t even been fazed or surprised at the sight, because subconsciously, he knew that Sirius would’ve surely gone and tried to go after James’s son, to finish the job he had started.

Instead, he’d brandished his wand, and held it in front of his ex - lover with a shaking hand, tears quickly welling up in his brown eyes. “Wh – what do you want? Are you here to finish what you ha – had started all those years back?”, he’d asked. The unspoken question of, _why are you so intent on torturing me like this_ was left hanging in the air.

Instead of a killing curse to the face, as the werewolf had expected, Sirius instead turned back into his animagus form, and beckoned at him to follow him into the shrieking shack, without uttering a single word. Against his better judgement, he followed the prison escapee, taking a leaf out of Sirius’s own book – sometimes, you just had to stop thinking about all the possible risks, and just… _dive in._

_Ironic_

The following hour had been the most confusing, mind blowing, and shocking hour of his entire life, and that was counting when he made his first friends. He’d been left sitting on the old bedpost on which he used to tie himself up during his transformations, gaping in shock at the man who’d just strolled into his life and flipped it over, just like he’d done when they were youths.

He hadn’t been able to believe it…Peter, the meek child whom everyone believed Sirius had killed…had been the secret keeper, and had betrayed them to the dark lord. He felt like the entire world had been flipped upon his head, been set on fire, and then a dragon had chewed it and spit it out in a soggy, broken heap.

This time, he puked over the bed and onto the dirty floor besides him, but before Sirius could take his wand to vanish the mess, Remus had his wand pointed at his neck, remembering the first lesson Moody had taught them – constant vigilance. And Sirius, for all he knew, could be lying.

“How can I be sure that you aren’t lying?”, he’d asked. Five minutes and two magical oaths later, he himself vanished his mess, and stumbled into Sirius’s bony chest, and the ex – convict somehow managed to hold him up.

The scene was so reminiscent of when they’d been dating, that he had flinched violently, before getting up and getting out of the hut for ‘a toilet break’, which was the marauder’s code for ‘I need a break, or my mind’s going to become an omelet’.

The rest of the story was ‘simple’ enough – Remus helped Sirius through his time on the boundaries of Hogwarts, giving him food and chocolate (for the dementors. Gods, he hated those creatures for what they were doing to his friend), and how, at the end of the year, Harry, Hermione, and Ron had arrived at the shrieking shack ad they learnt the true story, of how Peter Pettigrew had been made secret keeper.

However, for Remus, there’d been much more to the story, and it had been a lot more painful. Throughout Sirius’s stay at the shrieking shack, they’d constantly tried to reignite that spark, the flame which had burnt hot and bright all those years ago, between them. But to their despair, the fire seemed to have….just, flickered out. Neither of them was the same people they used to be, and they weren’t compatible anymore.

Sirius was no longer the same, easygoing, amicable prankster he’d been in his youth, driven nearly as insane as Bellatrix Lestrange from the guilt of him proposing the switch of secret keepers, grief for James and Lily’s death, and the torture the dementors had inflicted on him for 12 years. Now, most of the times, he was nothing more than a rabid dog, intent on revenge. On murder.

Remus too, had changed from the quiet and brilliant, yet mischievous boy of his youth, and had become a shell of himself from years of self – imposed solitude, grief, and guilt. Now, though he maintained his intelligence, it had lost the …. ‘naughty little niffler controlling it’, as Sirius had liked to say in their youth.

Those months, in which they found themselves so close, yet so far apart, unable to connect in that intrinsic manner that they done with ease in their youth, they hurt more than either of them was willing to admit. _Both of us are absolute pants at dealing with our own feelings._

In fact, even now, when they were much closer, they still were unable to fall in love again, and instead, Remus had found love in the last person he’d ever expected to – Sirius’s rambunctious cousin. Though, he occasionally wondered how much of his love for Dora was for herself, and how much was for her resemblance to Sirius. Both of them were rambunctious, always stood out in a group, were rebels, and by some miracle, managed to make him get his head out of books and ‘bookworm thoughts’, and just live in the moment.

Sometimes, he pondered, whether Sirius was jealous of Dora. If he still maintained the flame between them.

He always drew a blank to that question, and also to the question of what he should do if Sirius was in fact, still ….in love with him. _Fat chance of that._

Suddenly, a pair of calloused fingers were snapping an inch from his eyes, causing him to jump back in surprise. “You alright there, Moony? You zoned out for a second there.”, said Sirius’s worried face, peering at him with narrowed eyes.

Remus scoffed. “Huh, I’m never alright.”

Sirius simply rolled his eyes with a small smile at that statement. “Seriously Moony, you need to stop being such a bloody emo, pessimistic, self deprecative prick all the time. You don’t want to grow backwards to how you were as a kid, do you? Because I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the sight of an 11 year old Moony, trotting around the Black library dusty robes, carrying a pile of books heavier than him.”

Remus guffawed at the vivid and humorous imagery, something which Sirius had always excelled at. He looked into his friend’s gray eyes, searching for any sign of anything suggestive, but as always, his eyes glowed with nothing but happiness and good humour.

“So, you didn’t hear any of my long, deliberately constructed, logic and textbook proven rant, did you?”, he asked with a smile, and Remus shook his head, a gesture which Sirius returned.

“I swear, you are never going to change from that annoying bookworm in school, who went into philosophical discussions with himself at the worst possible times.”, he grinned.

“Never.”, agreed Remus. “Because, where’s the fun otherwise?”

It was quite possible that Sirius and he would never be more than friends, especially after what he had done to Ronald. But for Remus, having the friendship of Sirius itself was more than enough, and it was something he would cherish his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter done, and whew, was this a hard one to write. My original draft did not have the last...7000 words, and I had to add them in two days, while I had a speech contest, exam and three bloody extra classes in those two days.  
> Anyways, hope you liked it. And also, I'd like to add that Remus and Sirius kept their relationship a secret, because ... well, in this version of the wizarding world, homosexuality is frowned upon by a lot of people, which is quite sad. Seriously, these wizards and witches need to grow up.  
> SO, fic of the day:  
> Those four last days of the war - oscarpaz00, posted on ffn  
> Simply amazing fic, with an OP!Ron, though...well, you have to read up to see his problem.
> 
> P.S. I absolutely suck at naming my chapters, so please send me a few chapter name suggestions in the comments.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not my property, and I have no intent of earning money through this.  
> Also, this chapter was finished ten minutes ago at midnight, and hasn't been proofread. It's also a bit shorter than average, but nothing much.  
> Also, i can't believe how this fic got 70 more hits in a single day.

Chapter 8 : The Greengrass secret

Ronald Weasley’s POV

The next morning, Ron arrived at breakfast on time, eagerly waiting for the owls to arrive. He was pretty sure that his words wouldn’t be printed, but he didn’t care. It would just prove the ministry’s cowardice.

Soon the entire hall was filled, though no one seemed to have any special interest in their food, no doubt waiting for the newspapers. Right on cue, the owls flew in, and Ron immediately snatched a paper from Tracey, ignoring her protests, and scanned through it as quick as possible.

And just as expected, Rita Skeeter hadn’t written an article today. Instead, some random wizard had written a page about his visit to Gringotts, where he supposedly interacted with the goblin race, a notoriously ‘dark and twisted species’. _Well, it’s clear where we get blood purism from._

And so, for the second breakfast, Ron threw his head back and laughed like a madman, and this time, no one dared stop him.

“Well, well, well, would you look at that! Just as expected, our _honourable and truthful_ Rita Skeeter, just up and vanished at the first sight of trouble!”, he said aloud mockingly, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Look! Look at how they labeled the goblins as a dark and twisted _species!_ Species, mind you! They can’t even be bothered to offer them the least bit of respect!”, and every single soul in hall looked at him in awe.

Normally, he would have been flustered, but when he was angry….well, we already know what happens.

Every single newspaper in the hall went into the air above Ron’s head and caught fire in a terrifying display of accidental magic, the fireball lighting casting shadows everywhere.

“Now, I accept, Goblins can be devious. But that’s the thing, once you’re cornered, people will go to any limits to get revenge. I mean, look at me! For four years, I was nothing more than the bloody boy – who – lived’s sidekick, an expendable pawn. And in just two months after being abandoned, thrown away to die, look at where I’ve come!”, he yelled, eyes fixated on Potter and Granger, who flinched violently at the last part.

He continued in a calmer, softer voice. “Yes, I did visit Gringotts that day, and I treated them with respect. In fact, I returned every single Goblin made item in the Black treasury, and in return, I have _earned_ their favour and respect.”

“How do we know?”, some Hufflepuff seventh year asked, but without any mockery in his voice.

Ron smirked in response, like he had been waiting for just this (which he had), and stepped a bit back to prevent decapitating his friends. He held his right hand up in the air, and called upon Christmas.

At once, there were several gasps from both teachers and students, as they stared in awe at the Morningstar in his hands. He didn’t swing it around though, as he still hadn’t gotten in any practice with it, for the last night was spent trying out the wind spell (he was not really good at it at it, but as they say, practice makes perfect. He would just have to figure out a way to seriously harm his opponents with the spell, as he was good at harmful, and downright deadly spells)

“Yes, the goblin nation gifted this weapon to me as a show of friendship and gratitude. See, if you treat a person properly, they too will treat you well.”

“Remember me saying yesterday that Rita Skeeter is a blood purist? Well, in my eyes, discriminating someone just because of them being of a different race, something which they can’t control, is the exact same thing as Blood Supremacy, and it’s been made abundantly clear that the ministry is run by bigots. Stupid bigots who do nothing but suit their own needs.”, he nearly shouted, egging his enraptured audience on.

But, just as last time, toad woman had to interrupt again. “Mr. Black, I’m afraid that I’ll have to confiscate that weapon from you.”, she said, leering at him with a twisted smile.

“Oh?”, he responded, feigning ignorance as the weapon vanished from his right hand. “I’m sorry, but even I don’t know where it’s gone. Can’t really confiscate it from me now, can you?”, he said, taunting her. There was just something about the woman which struck him as off, which made his skin crawl and want to beat her to death.

“Detention, Weasley. In my office, tonight!”, she barked, her toady face turning an interesting shade of puce.

“Dolores”, Albus started, ever so calm, as if he wasn’t just telling her that the ministry was worth a rat’s arse. “I don’t think Mr. Black deserves punishment. After all, he is just telling the truth. And if I’m not mistaken, every citizen of our nation has the right to freedom of speech.”

Ron barely stopped himself from bursting into laughter at her indignant expression, and it was clear that even the others were struggling. Merlin, was it fun to mentally torture people!

However, just as suddenly as she had interrupted, her expression shifted into a disgustingly sweet smile, which made him feel almost physically sticky and dirty.

“However, by his actions, Mr. Black is trying to incite treason and rebellion, a crime that is punishable with Azkaban!”, she said triumphantly, causing several gasps, and Ron’s eyes to widen in shock and fear.

_Azkaban! No, they can’t possibly take a 15 year old to Azkaban. Alright…calm down, Black. Calm…be the chessplayer playing with your opponent’s mind. Yes...calm._

“Well, you might be right, but there are a lot of flaws in your accusation”, he said in a crisp, business tone, which shocked quite a few people.

“Firstly, I really can’t believe that anyone in their right mind would put a bloody _15 year old_ in Azkaban. Second, who said that I’m trying to incite rebellion? I’m just presenting my view of the current situation, telling the _truth_ to my friends, unlike the daily prophet.”

“Insulting the ministry and the minister of magic to the face _is_ called attempting treason, Mr. Black.”

Ron gaped at her with an open jaw. “Ok, ok, calm down.”, he said with extravagant hand gestures, causing a few snickers. “Let me explain this in a different way. Tell me, is calling a flobberworm a flobberworm an insult?”, he asked, causing him to receive quite a few puzzled looks.

“No! I’m serious!”

“Well, No, Mr. Black”, Snape, of all people, drawled from the head table, while there were mumbles of assent from the crowd.

“So, I’m doing the exact same thing! The Ministry is cowardly and lying, so I’m just telling it that it is cowardly and lying! I mean, it managed to report my ascension as Lord Black within 10 hours of the event, while they couldn’t report the events of yesterday, when they had 24 hours! This speaks volumes about the ministry!”

This time, several students actually agreed with his reasoning, and it was solid, though the comparison was a bit comical (don’t blame him, he likes comic relief) The ministry was still hiding the true events from the population.

“Mr. Black, the Prophet has much more important matters to report.”, Umbridge spat out through gritted teeth. However, Ron was one very stubborn person, and he was determined to leave the ministry and Umbridge reeling.

“Like what, insulting 15 year olds based on nothing but pure speculation? Do you know, that when I went to Gringotts, several people were whispering insult behind my back, because of _your_ precious ministry’s deprecating article which warned people to stay away from me.”

“So, when a newspaper tells people that a certain 15 year old becomes a dark wizard in one night, it is treated like Merlinsend, while on the other hand, when said boy presents his view, his opinion, the ministry doesn’t as much as report it? Instead, choosing to hide it for the sake of its precious image?”

Now, the entire hall was silent, and Umbridge was glaring at him, eyes stormy, promising revenge. The problem? Toads didn’t look too intimidated when angry, which was why Ron wasn’t really fazed by it.

Just then, two more owls flew into the hall, fashionably late, and landed right in front of him. One was a common tawny, while the other was an elegant snowy all, which seemed to be looking at him with an assessing look in its eyes. _Stop leering at me, mate._

“What are you gaping at?”, he snapped at the rest of the school which had been looking at his letter curiously, though his voice only carried amusement. “Let a man read his mail in peace!”

He flunked himself into his seat with as little grace as possible (though his exhaustion from his display of accidental magic also played a part in that), and carefully took the letters from the owls. He didn’t notice Daphne staring at the snowy owl incredulously, though her face didn’t betray any emotion.

He opened the first letter which had been brought by the common owl, but closed it shut the moment he read the sender’s name. _Opening a letter from Sirius in the middle of the great hall would be a very bad idea._

He quickly opened the second letter, ignoring the curious looks from the others and sent a quick glance at the crest which he didn’t recognize. As he read the letter, his eyes kept widening and at the end, he couldn’t help the incredulous grin which he sent towards Daphne, who simply shrugged.

_To Lord Ronald Alphard Black - Tonks_

_Cordial greetings to you, Lord Black. I, as you probably found out from the crest on the envelope, am Lord Enoch of house Greengrass, and I must admit that I was very surprised and awed when my daughter, Daphne, sent me a letter yesterday, telling me about how you two have struck a friendship, and your skill with words, and your magical process._

_And thus, I would like to invite you to Greengrass manor tomorrow evening an hour after your classes end, for a meeting between two potential allies. I would also suggest that you bring along Daphne and Astoria, because my wife says that she really misses them._

_To the success of both our houses, and to a potential alliance._

_Yours truly, Lord Enoch Greengrass_

_Hmm …. Sounds intriguing. Well, guess I’ll just have to meet Daphne’s father._ “So …. are we friends?”, he asked the blonde cautiously. With Harry and Hermione, there had been a definite moment when their friendship had been sealed and stamped as official. However, with Slytherins you never knew when they looked at you as an ally, and when they saw you as a friend.

Daphne, true to her ice – queen persona, didn’t show any outward reaction to his question. “Well … guess we are friends.”, she said slowly, as if testing the word out for the first time, and Ron flashed her a toothy, lopsided grin, before extending a hand the way he had extended his hand to Harry on the first train to Hogwarts, an event which felt like it had happened centuries ago.

“And please shake my hand properly. Like friends do.”, he added, and Daphne raised an eyebrow before taking his rough, calloused hand in her soft, milky one, and giving it a surprisingly firm shake.

“You, are a _very_ strange person, Ronald Black.”, she said wisely, and Ron just smirked at her.

“Oh, what can I say. Strange is my middle name, you see.”, he joked, before turning to Theo and Tracey who had been watching the entire exchange with highly amused expressions. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Blaise eyeing them with a quirked eyebrow, though the longing in his eyes was unmistakable. _Must be tough living with a person like his mother._

“Hey, what are you guys waiting for, Theo, Tracey?”, he called. “And you too, Blaise, stop being such a grumpy bastard and come here.”

The three of them looked just as taken aback as Daphne had been, but scooted closer nonetheless. Ron shook hands with the three of them, while Blaise shook with Daphne, Tracey, and Theo as well. Both the Slytherin Table, and Albus Dumbledore watched the entire exchange, the former with amused and confused looks, the latter with a happy smile.

Their laughter and giggles echoed across the hall, and the five Slytherins felt strangely happy, complete. Almost like they had been missing this very thing their entire lives, and now that it had come to them, they felt better than they had ever felt before.

The captors of Fate smiled at the sight, their expressions, for once carrying something other than predatory looks. They sported soft smiles, which were laced with sorrow and grief for what they had lost.

Well, at least everything was going to plan.

****************

“So, whom are you sending those letters to?”, asked an amused male voice from behind him, causing him to jump, his wand up on reflex.

“Calm down, Ron, it’s just us!”, said Andromeda from besides Ted, who was, as usual, smiling so brightly that it was contagious. _No wonder the healing students like them so much._

Instantly, Ron’s wand was back in his holster, a relaxed smile was on his face, and his reply to Sirius’s letter was stuffed inside his robes (He’d sent him a letter asking him to be wary of Death Eaters and Voldemort, to not kick the Order out of Grimmauld Place … and to ensure that in the case Sirius died, to let Harry inherit a part of the Black fortune. He hadn’t liked the terms, but since Sirius had been good to him, he’d agreed.) “So, what brings you guys here?”, he asked, with a genuinely cheerful smile.

“What we aren’t allowed to check up on our son?”, asked Ted, clutching his heart in mock hurt, and Ron had to suppress a chuckle at the man’s antics. He was clearly a perfect match for Andromeda, with how he always managed to get her to loosen up.

 _Hmm…he called me ‘son’._ The word sounded … odd, foreign, coming from someone else’s lips aside from his biological parents. A jolt of emotional pain lanced through his chest, causing him to flinch, but before they could ask what had happened, a beaming mask was back on his face. _Never show any sign of weakness,_ Daphne had advised him after his first speech in the Great Hall.

It was lesson, he vowed to keep in mind forever.

“Of course you are!”, he replied with a forced casual attitude. As expected, Andromeda, having grown up as she did, saw through it easily and frowned. _Damn, I need to work on controlling my expressions._

“Ron, there’s no need to hide anything from us.”, she sighed. “If you want anything, all you have to do is ask, you know.”

Ron scowled at her. “I prefer to do things on my own. I don’t want any help from anyone.”, he muttered snobbishly, and to his surprise, Andromeda simply shook her head with a fond, but sad smile, while Ted rolled his eyes.

“You know, those were the exact first words Andy exchanged with me.”, he said with a grin. “You won’t _believe_ how much of a stuck up, snobbish girl she was in her youth.”

“I was _not_ stuck up or snobbish!”, snarled Andy, a sound he’d never though she would use (Ron never wanted it directed at him. It was scarier than a goblin’s predatory grin), but Ted, apparently having a death wish, just grinned at her.

“Oh, but I _loved_ her being a stuck up, snobbish girl. It made for some of the most interesting ….. _activities,_ I must say.”, he continued in a tone which made it clear what ‘activities’ stood for.

“Ted!”

“Alright, alright.”, he conceded, finally regaining his sense of self preservation. “All humour aside, seriously Ron, everyone needs some help now and then, even if their Albus Dumbledore.”

Ron’s gaze fell to his feet, the previous good mood which Ted’s antics had brought, having now been replaced by the seriousness of his advice. _That’s exactly why I like joking so much. Unless you’re the one in control of a situation, serious words are never fun._

“Fine, if I need help, I’ll ask. But, _only_ if I really need help.”, he grumbled, and they smiled at him. “Now, can you tell us who you’re sending a letter to?”, asked Ted, and Ron showed him the letter addressed to Lord Greengrass.

“Today morning Lord Greengrass sent me a letter, asking me to come to his manor for a meeting. He said he wanted us to become allies, whatever that ensues, since Daphne and I have become friends.”, he explained.

“And you decided to attend this meeting, without any idea of how pureblood customs work, or how to make a good negotiation.”, asked Andromeda with an amused look in her face, and Ron felt his own ears heat up from embarrassment.

“Well, I’ve already proved that I can speak very well, that I could find the loopholes in the blood oath yesterday. And I do know that you have to kiss the lady’s knuckles, and shake the Lord’s hand”, he mumbled. _Great, the guy who planned his own emancipation to the T, unable to even plan for a simple meeting …. with a Lord whose face betrays no emotion, and is the shrewdest businessman in Europe, if Tracey’s to be believed._

At that, Ted broke into full blown guffaws which shook his body, while Andy rolled her eyes at the child before her. “Seriously Ron, I never expected this from you.”, wheezed Ted, though his tone carried no insult.

“Shut up, Ted.”, Ron hissed in response while biting his lip to stop his laughter. “Though … I did ask my friends for help, and they said that they will _try_ to hammer some manners into me.”

“You have good friends.”, said Andromeda, a far off look in her eyes, as if remembering something in her past, before her eyes suddenly sharpened. “But always remember, that your friends are Slytherins, most of them from pureblood families as well. And I know from experience, that they only do things for their own benefit, so I’ll warn you to be careful around them. Accept their help, but don’t listen to the Greengrass heir’s advice about what to say during the meeting. You need to stay in control during it.”

Almost on reflex, Ron opened his mouth to retort, saying that he had complete trust in his friends, before the memory of what Harry and Hermione had done to him hit him like a bludgeoning hex to the face. _They were Gryffindors, and yet they betrayed me. Andy does have a point …. I’ll have to be careful around them._

“Ok”, he said, nodding in understanding. “Though, Snape told us that Slytherins value fraternity. Surely, if my friends value it too, they would help me.”

“Yes…”, said Andy, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “They will help you, but you have to remember to stay cautious around them for the first few months. After that…they will always stay by your side, if you stay by their side.”, she said, and Ron smiled, a gesture which Andy returned.

“About your horribly planned meeting”, she continued. “There’s no way that you’re going to become an expert negotiator in two days. You might be great at telling a story, swaying the crowds, but not negotiations and controlling your expressions. You’ll need a lot more practice for that. And so, I will go along with you for the meeting.”

“What?”, exclaimed Ted. “I’m not letting you go into a death eater’s home alone! And besides, will he even allow you to come in without an invitation?”

Ron’s eyes widened at the words, and he stared at Ted, who’d clearly just realized what he’d said, and had his hands over his mouth, while Andromeda was glaring at him. _Death eater …. I didn’t know that Daphne’s father had been a death eater._

Ron obviously knew that Theo’s father was a death eater, as the name Nott had been thrown around a lot by his parents in his childhood Even Theo had told him outright that his father was a death eater, but Theo didn’t believe in Voldemort’s philosophy. But Greengrass …. that was one name he’d never heard of being associated with Voldemort.

“Daphne’s dad was – is a death eater?”, he asked in a whisper, and Andromeda rubbed her forehead, which was creased with worry.

“Yes.”, she said at last, voice clipped. “He was a death eater in the first war. However, no one ever knew of him as his trial was held in private, and he probably bribed the officials to not spread the news.”

“The how did you know?”

“I, out of sheer luck, happened to overhear one of his conversations with Amelia Bones. Though …. I’ve always been confused as to how he managed to bribe Amelia Bones, whom I thought was one of the most just people I ever knew.”

Ron rubbed his face with his hands, unable to believe his ears. When Theo had told him about his father, he’d been repulsed at first, but had later understood that it was an act of goodwill, showing that the weedy haired boy genuinely trusted, and like him. Daphne not telling him …. that, on the other hand, showed that she didn’t trust him enough … that she might be a threat.

But then again, even Ron knew who Amelia Bones was, the fierce, stern, just head of DMLE, Hogwarts graduate from Hufflepuff, who’d lost her family to death eaters, the woman of whom he’d heard countless tales from his father. Or rather, had overheard tales his father had narrated to Percy. 

“I really do not know whether he’d been forced to become a death eater, because Madame Bones’s expression had been one of genuine pity, or if he’s an actor excellent enough to get past Amelia Bones’s radar.”

“But whatever the case, I really don’t think that he’ll try to attack us, as it would reveal the Dark Lord’s return.’, she finished.

“But what if he puts us under the Imperius? Voldemort’s surely after my lordship, libraries, and money. Having a death eater do the deed would be the easiest way to get what he wants.”

“He won’t do anything like that. Even if he managed to put us under the Imperius, Dumbledore and Ted would manage to detect it quickly enough. And anyways, I can resist the imperius, and I’m pretty sure that you can as well.”

Ron shook his head, for once feeling irritated at his magic being so dependent on emotions. “No. Last year when our defense professor put us under the Imperius, I couldn’t even put up an ounce of resistance.”

“There’s no need to so dejected.”, said Ted with a small smile. “I’ve talked with Albus, and he said that you have been practicing occlumency, as you have acceptable shields in your mind. And even if you aren’t able to resist, Andy and I will pull you out.”

“Andy and I?”, asked Andromeda with a raised eyebrow, and Ted scowled.

“Do you really think that I’ll let you go there all alone? I’m coming along as well.”

“Excuse me, but I am perfectly capable of defending myself!”

“I’m not denying that, but you have no idea if you’ll need any hel – “

“You know what?”, cut in Ron loudly, chuckling at their antics. _Gods, I swear that these two are children in adults’ skins._ “Both of you can come along, as the meeting is after classes. And also, I couldn’t care less that Lord Greengrass hasn’t invited any of you.”

The two exchanged a look, before turning to him with identical Cheshire grins. _I wouldn’t be surprised if they could read each other’s minds like Fred and George._ “Deal.”, they chorused.

“Deal.”, agreed Ron with an amused shake of his head. “But for now, I need you to tell me how on earth should I approach Daphne about her father being a death eater. ‘Hey Daphne, I just wanted to know if you ever planned to tell me that your dad was a death eater’ doesn’t sound like a good conversation starter.”

“That”, replied Ted, clapping a hand onto his shoulder. “Is something that you’ll have to figure out on your own. Take it as a test, but do make sure to apologize to Ms. Greengrass should you mess up.”, he said, before just walking out of the owlery, leaving Ron behind, his mouth opening and closing like a bewildered fish.

“And also”, floated over Andromeda’s elegant voice. “Whoever you’re writing that second letter to, make sure that the person isn’t dangerous.”

Once the sound of footsteps had disappeared, Ron shook his head in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. This meeting had taught him two things – _a, adults are the greatest pricks in existence. And b, Ted and Andromeda Tonks can read each other’s thoughts._

*************

The first Arithmancy lesson, one which Ron was quite excited for, was on the fourth day of school, the same day of his meeting with Lord Greengrass, and Ron nearly ran into professor Vector’s classroom.

He had been very confused on whether to choose Arithmancy or Ancient Runes, but in the end he’s gone for the former, as he really didn’t see the use of learning Runes as a subject. After all, they were just copying stuff from a notebook. Not to mention, Ron was really bad at it (from a four day, with time turner practice session of the two subjects he had had over the summer). While, on the other hand, Arithmancy was the first time he had felt like a natural at a subject. He didn’t even care about History and CoMC, Charms needed some practice, Dueling, though he really enjoyed it and curses were something he was almost a natural at, also was something he was good at only from practice ad blood.

Arithmancy, was something which just sort of …..clicked into his mind. The subject reminded him quite a bit of chess, as Arithmancy too involved a lot of simplification and moving around of stuff, just like chess involved moving pieces to the right position, and then exchanging to your benefit. It was purely based on straight, deductive reasoning and analytical thinking, and Ron really enjoyed it (not the twisted riddles Granger was good at, mind you), and he couldn’t wait to start making spells of his own, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still working on the mid - fourth year syllabus.

The moment he entered the class, he took a seat right at the front, and to his great dismay, none other than the Ms. Granger had to sit next to him, and the two made it their mission to pointedly ignore the other for the rest of the lesson, though Ron could say she was having a harder time than him (might or might not be due to the slightly tighter than usual shirt, as he had discarded his robes)

Together, the class greeted the professor, and Ron had to admit she looked pretty good. “Alright, so before starting, Mr. Weasley, since you are a new student amidst us, in our class, it is tradition for all the new students to introduce themselves, so please?”, she said with a smile, beckoning him forward.

With a huge blush, Ron got up from his seat, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Er – well, I’m sure all of you at least know my name by now.”, he started awkwardly, causing a few chuckles from the students.

“So, I’m gonna keep it as short as possible since I have no wish to waste precious time, as I too am excited for Arithmancy. My name is Ronald Alphard Black – Tonks, current lord of house Black. And I’m pretty sure that those two speeches in the great hall ought to have told you everything worth knowing about me. Goodbye!”, he finished, simply wanting to get to his seat quickly, but was instead interrupted by a Ravenclaw – Sue li, to be exact.

“Hey, Black – “

“Call me Ron.”

“OK, Ron. I mean no insult by this, but how did you change so much, and just in two months? Last year, you were quite a lazy, ill mannered fellow, who didn’t pay attention in class in the least. And then, here you are.”

“None taken. Well, I’m gonna give you the quick and abridged version, and I’m sure some of you are going to disagree with some of my points.”, he said, looking around the room, but resting for a moment at Granger, letting that empowering anger flow into him.

“Lord Voldemort _did_ return at the end of the previous year. Now, certain people believed that I was being a hindrance to the precious Boy – Who – Lived, which was why they decided that I didn’t deserve to be his friend anymore. And the entire Weasley clan, with exception of Percy and Ginny agreed with these prats, and even Potter and Granger, two people who I would have done anything in the past for, also agreed to abandon me.”, he said, contempt dripping from his voice, and Granger received a lot of glares.

“Now, pay attention. They threw away a 14-year-old boy, knowing that there would probably be a war soon, so imagine how hurt I must have felt. So, anyways, I asked the headmaster for help, and Hogwarts became my new home. Over here, I actually used the library for the first time, determined to show people who I really am. I wanted to become powerful, an equal to Lord Voldemort, so powerful that people would someday hesitate to even say my name, just like they don’t say Voldemort even now.”

“And so, that’s exactly what I did. I took revenge. I became stronger, faster, and more powerful.”

Towards the end, he spoke with such passion and raw emotion in his voice, that his violent, erratic, _unnatural_ magic caused the walls to vibrate. And even though a normal person would never believe that Ron would ever be able to do what he promised, for some reason, everyone knew that the red head would keep his promise.

The entire room had gone silent, and Ron mentally slapped himself at his slip of tongue. With a short, awkward thank you, he rushed back to his seat, where Granger was staring at him like he’d grown another head. Actually, scratch that. Everyone, including the teacher was staring at him with a mix of fear and awe.

He had a feeling he would be having a talk with Albus very soon, but well, he was just saying the truth about what had been going on in his mind at the time.

“Well, alright then!”, Vector started once the silence grew a bit too awkward. “Let’s begin the class for today. First, let’s have a bit of revision, and solve these matrices”, she said, sending several sheets towards each student with a flick of her wand.

It took a total of 20 minutes to solve the three matrices, and Ron had to admit, they were quite a bit difficult. But in the end, the satisfying feeling when the square condensed into an infinitesimal point with a ‘POP’, was well worth it.

“Well done! Now, I will give all of you a spell, and you’ll try to examine the variable values and properties of it. After that, I want an essay on the spell submitted to me by Sunday.”, she said, while typing the specimen spell on the board.

_Hmmmm….Confringo, the second strongest blasting hex after Bombarda Maxima._

At once, he began noting down the basic variables on a rough sheet.

_Color – Red, Result – explosion at points of contact, wand movement – big counterclockwise circle-step front-jab, strength – enough to blow up a mountain troll’s head._

_Now, if I just reduce the size of the circle, the color will change. And the slower and less sharp the jab, the less power. There!_

Just then, the bell rang, and the class was dismissed, but not without the 3 feet essay (Ron’s hate of essays would never subside), and the class headed down for lunch.

************

That very same evening, an hour after classes had ended, Ron found himself in the headmaster’s office with Ted, Andromeda, Daphne, Dumbledore, and Astoria, with the latter deliberately avoiding Ron’s gaze. Apparently, she had a bit of a crush on him, as Daphne had told him during transfiguration that day. _Seriously, developing a crush on someone after exchanging only three words with them is a stupid idea._

_You’re one to talk, Mr. has – a – crush – on – Fleur – Delacour, – Madam – Rosmerta – and – a – ruddy – female – goblin – in – Gringotts._

_You know, sometimes I really want to punch you in your imaginary nose, strange – voice – in my head._

_Ditto._

“Good evening Professors Tonks!”, greeted Astoria happily, a little bumbling ball of energy as always. _She’s…too small, too thin, some might say._ “Good evening, Astoria. You’re looking as enthusiastic and pretty as always.”, returned Ted with a smile, causing her to blush, while Daphne just looked at him with a look which screamed ‘what are they doing here?’

Ron just shrugged, unwilling to tell her the real reason as he still hadn’t managed to breach the subject of problematic fathers yet. And despite his best efforts to conceal his feelings, she’d managed to guess that he was in a dilemma, and that too without penetrating his mind like she had on the carriage to Hogwarts.

Just then, Albus finished setting up the floo to Greengrass Manor, and turned to them, his smiling face covered in soot, which was quite a comical sight. _Never though I’d see a soot covered Albus Dumbledore._ “Lord Greengrass has connected his fireplace to mine. You’re free to travel by it now.”, he informed, cleaning himself with a quick wave of his wand.

Nodding to the headmaster, they walked into the green flames and Daphne flung the grew powder at their feet, saying loudly and clearly, “Greengrass Manor!’

The green fire twisted and turned around him, forming countless, barely distinguishable shapes for less than a second, before they were destroyed by their creator, lost in the flow of time. A second later, the fire dropped them off at the floo entrance of Greengrass manor, and only Ron and Astoria stumbled out ungracefully, depositing black soot on the green carpet at their feet.

Just like what magical travel had been doing to him for the past few months, he was forced to clutch his head as a nauseating bout of dizziness washed over him and lasted for ten seconds, before it disappeared as abruptly as it had come.

“You alright there, Ron?”, came Ted’s worried question, and he shook his head to clear it. _Get your shit back together, Black. Remember? Never show weakness?_ “Yeah…I’m alright. Just…floo travel makes me nauseous every time.”

Both his parents frowned, but didn’t say anything more. What none of them had noticed, was Lord and Lady Greengrass who were watching the entire scene under disillusionment charms. Their eyes widened as they watched Ron’s reaction to floo travel, which was surprisingly similar to Astoria’s reaction.

Daphne was currently forcing Astoria to drink a small vial full of anti – nausea potion, which she had to consume whenever she travelled by Floo due to the terrible blood curse which ran in the Greengrass family, and had manifested itself in their younger daughter.

 _No, it’s impossible. There’s no blood curse running in the Weasley blood line.,_ Enoch Greengrass tried to assure himself.

_But yet, his reaction was strikingly similar to Astoria’s reaction._

_You know what? Let’s not have this argument now, and instead focus on welcoming our allies._

In one, swift, practiced motion, both he and his wife took off their disillusionment charms, startling their visitors. Once more, on pure instinct (These instincts, despite being useful, can also be darn annoying at times), Ron had his thestral tail hair wand out of his holster, and pointed at his hosts, a lethal curse on the tip of his tongue.

Except, this time, he found Lord Greengrass’s wand pointed at him as well, looking like he too had a curse on his lips. _Good reflexes there, mate. Look like you’ve been in battle before._

The two stared at each other for a few moments, before, slowly, both of them lowered their wands again, though their eyes never left the other’s. _Excellent way to start a meeting, isn’t it? The atmosphere here is really comfy, with death eaters pointing wands at you in the first second._

“DAD!”, hissed Astoria, while Daphne chorused with a ‘RON!’.

“Good evening, and welcome to Greengrass manor.”, greeted Lay Greengrass, a beautiful woman with silky blonde hair which fell past her shoulders, a heart shaped face, and blue eyes. In other words, the spitting image of Daphne.

She didn’t even bat an eye at the hushed arguments going on around her, making it look like she was used to this sort of behaviour from her husband. “Seriously, Ron!”, reprimanded Daphne, hissing in his ear. “You don’t go around pointing wands at people’s faces!”

“I said I’m sorry! I’ve just refined my instincts a bit too much!”, he snapped back. Daphne huffed in annoyance, but didn’t say anything more.

“I think, it will be a good idea to take this meeting to the meeting room.”, said Enoch Greengrass, his eyes roaming from him to his parents, though they never paused on any one of them, and his eyes didn’t show any emotion. _Fuck, the Greengrasses are way to good at occlumency for their own good._

Together, they walked through the corridors towards the meeting room, with Lord Greengrass silent as a stone, Daphne and Astoria talking in hushed whispers, Lady Greengrass talking with Andy, and Ted and Ron gazing around the expansive manor with eyes glimmering with awe.

The place looked like something straight out of a fairy tale, with its huge corridors which had countless paintings of humans, landscapes and inanimate objects. The carpets were a rich, emerald green in which you could get lost in, the same color of Harry’s eyes. The walls were painted in beige, with swirls of silver in intricate patterns all over them, like flowers blossoming in the spring, in the midst of the green which dominated the foliage around the burrow.

As they strolled through the manor ( _looks more like a bloody castle to me,_ though Ron, his eyes never pausing in their movements), the human paintings, presumably of lord Greengrass’s ancestors eyed them curiously, and Ron had the distinct feeling that they were paying him the most attention, deliberately tracking every movement, every whispered comment, which they would use to further the Greengrass name. The thought sent shivers up his spine.

At long last, they reached the meeting room, which, like the rest of the _palace_ was huge, beautiful, and impeccably decorated in a blend of classic architecture, with what appeared to be Astoria’s creations thrown into the mix.

For once, Ron sat in a chair with ‘etiquette’, as his friends had been hammering into his head for the past few days. He didn’t miss the surprised, yet approving look he received from Daphne at that act, and _subtly_ rolled his eyes at the cheeky blonde.

Discreetly, Ron eased his wand out of the holster, not completely, but far enough that he could put up a shield in a split second’s notice. Lord Greengrass ordered a house elf to bring them refreshment, before seating himself in the seat directly opposite him, and leaned slightly forward in his seat.

“A very good evening to you, Lord Black. And to you too, Mr. and Mrs. Tonks.”, he greeted cordially, with Daphne and Astoria chorusing it a second later.

Taking breaths to force himself to relax under the man’s intimidating gaze, which somehow seemed to be stripping him down to his soul, examining him without any distractions. _Calm down….in the end, this is just a random rich dude you’re meeting up with for a business deal. You’ve dealt with far worse._

_It’s Daphne’s dad._

_So? Theo should be the one scared of him, not me. He’s the one shagging his daughter._

An easy grin swept across his features at the thought of Theo in his position, sweating and losing his usual calm, suave attitude. “Good evening to you too, Lord Greengrass, Lady Greengrass, Daphne, and Astoria.”, he said, leaning back casually in his seat, as if he was the one in control of the situation. “I must say, the three of you look absolutely stunning in those dresses, Lady Greengrass, Daphne, Astoria. You, are one lucky man, Lord Greengrass.”, he said, genuinely meaning his words.

 _It’s best to keep the opposition on their toes, and so, don’t hesitate to surprise them with unexpected attitudes. It will help you stay in control, and that is of utmost importance,_ he mentally recited, reiterating one of the lessons Andy had taught him in the past two days during the meetings they had had, preparing for this very occasion.

Astoria looked startled for a few seconds, before she blushed and hid her face. Even Daphne and her mum looked surprised and flattered for a split second, before Daphne’s face turned expressionless, and Lady Greengrass flashed him a small smile. _Huh, this isn’t that tough._ However, Lord Greengrass didn’t betray any hint of surprise, but Ron did notice the indecipherable glint which appeared in his eye.

“Do call me Enoch, Ron.”, said Enoch, before continuing on, not waiting for a response. “So, now that our pleasantries and silly talk has been done, I think we should approach on the real reason behind our meeting – forming an alliance. Though, before that, I would like to ask why you’ve brought your … parents, along.”

Ron blinked for a few seconds at the abrupt change of topic, in which time the elf arrived with cups of tea and biscuits. “I brought my parents along because I’d prefer a … ah, shall we say, more even footing.”, he returned, mistaking his tone for an insult towards Ted and Andromeda.

If the man saw the veiled insult, Ron would never know. Instead, he just perked an eyebrow before reverting back to his emotionless mask. Absently, Ron picked up a porcelain cup of steaming black tea, wanting something to draw his attention aside from the man’s penetrating gaze.

“Since you were the one who sent me the invitation, please do state your own terms, Lord Greengrass.”, said Andromeda with clipped tones, and Ron sent a silent thanks to the woman as he himself had had no idea of how to forward the conversation.

“Ahh, yes.”, mumbled Enoch. “I wish to form an alliance between our two houses, if you are willing to do so.”

“Please mention your terms first, and only then shall we come to a decision.”, responded Ron without hesitation.

Enoch nodded. “Alright. My first term, is that ... I want our two houses to help each other, financially and politically when one requests it.”, he said.

“And what if one doesn’t agree with the other about what purpose they require the help for?”, shot back Ron, his fingers instinctively tightening around his wand.

The man simply gave him a light shrug which he still managed to make elegant. “Then, there’s no need to offer help.”

“Those are very vague terms, Lord Greengrass.”, said Andy. “I’m afraid that we cannot agree to that one.”

To Ron’s surprise, the other Lord simply smiled at them, his face betraying visible emotion for once. “Good…you’ve certainly come prepared.”, he said. “Fine, let me clarify my meaning. If what one of us needs help for is for something inherently amoral and wrong, then the other need not offer help. But, if it’s something like needing aid to start, say, a new business venture, then, held will be given.”

“The compass of morality, of right and wrong, always points where the holder wants it to.”, said Ted, apparently quoting someone else by his tone. It was clear that Lord Greengrass didn’t identify the person who first said the words, but understood the meaning nonetheless.

“Hmm…in that case, well, we can just agree to disagree about my first term.”, he said, and Ron felt a grin cross his features, because for some strange reason, he was finding this situation, in which he was quite possibly sitting in a death eater’s home and arguing about morality, inherently _bloody_ amusing of all things. _I swear sometimes that I’ve gone loopy like Albus. Guess it’s a side product of spending too much time with him._

“My second term”, continued Enoch. “Is that as part of this alliance, House Greengrass will offer a part of its muggle shares to House Black, should House Black offer House Greengrass a part of its shares in the painting industries of Europe.”

Ron could do nothing but stare at the man in front of him, struggling to comprehend the words reaching his ears. _Painting industries? House Black has painting industries in Europe? And how the bloody hell are magical paintings fucking made in the first place?_

And so, knowing that he had no clue in this department, he turned to Andy, who was frowning at the man opposite to them. “But aren’t the Black holdings in the painting industries much less profitable than the holdings of House Greengrass? And again, the painting industries of house Black have been inactive for over a decade, and will take quite a while to be put back together. You surely have some ulterior motive behind this!”

 _Ruddy ulterior motives. Pureblood politics is nothing but lies and blackmail and death threats and ruddy ‘ulterior motives’._ For a second, Ron thought that he saw a hint of pain flit across Enoch Greengrass’s, eyes, but it was gone quick enough to make him question himself.

“Yes, you’re right.”, he confessed. “This term will make up for my last two terms.”

“And they are?”

“Firstly, I want you, Ron, to support my daughters in Slytherin house. And secondly, I want …. Your protection.”, he said, causing Ron’s eyes to widen in surprise, before his mind went into ‘strategy mode’, as he liked to call it, and began searching for a reason, of which he came up with only a few.

“Whom do you want protection from?”, he asked cautiously, knowing that he might be treading on thin ice. “From political opponents, family feuds, assassins, dark wizards, from the ministry. It could be any of them. You’ll have to tell us whom you want to be protected from if you want to be protected.”

This time, he clearly saw the last two potential persecutors Ron had named, and his eyes narrowed at him. _So…he probably doesn’t want to join the death eaters again this time, and also doesn’t want to face persecution for his crimes during the first war. Fucking bastard._

This time, it was Ron’s turn to lean forward in his seat and go on the aggressive, though his trusty wand was now fully out in the open. “Tell me, Lord Greengrass, do you want protection against Voldemort?”

He flinched violently at the name, clearly having bad memories associated with it. “Don’t say that name in my home!”, he hissed out, but Ron completely ignored him.

“And his death eaters? Do you want protection from the ministry, to prevent receiving justice for your crimes during the first war? Or do you want both, since you’re way too much of a coward to pick a side?”

Daphne was now staring at him with a shocked, hurt expression, Astoria looked bewildered, Lady Greengrass had gone pale, and Lord Greengrass’s wand had leapt to his hand.

However, before the man could even utter a word, Ron had a shield erected in front of his parents and him, its shimmering black and blue surface protecting them from any spells which would head his way.

Just as Lord Greengrass moved his wand to fire a curse at them, a sudden wave of energy erupted from his wife, causing his shield to flicker and Lord Greengrass’s wand to fly out of his grasp. He turned to see lady Greengrass standing, her expression wild, and her smoking wand raised in the air. _Merlin…that was a powerful bit of magic._

“Sit down, both of you!”, she barked, and Ron had to obey at her tone, which would have put Molly Weasley’s scolding to shame.

Lady Greengrass sat down in her seat, before turning to Ron with a decidedly pained expression, which it was impossible to fake. His parents had their wand in their hands, looking shocked at how quickly things had accelerated. Lord Greengrass looked like a lost man, and Daphne and Astoria were holding each other tight.

“How did you find out?”, was the first question out of Mary’s lips. Her eyes were pleading at her, with what could only be described as a mother pleading for her children’s lives. He wondered if that was how Lily Potter had looked like before jumping in front of the killing curse meant for Harry Potter.

But despite all of that, Ron still had his guard up, and especially after her display of power, there was no way in hell that he was being completely open with her. “Having connections in the ministry, and being best friends with Albus Dumbledore certainly do help.”, he lied with an easy shrug.

“Then why weren’t you two surprised in the least?”, she asked with a pointed look towards Andy and Ted.

“We’d suspected it for quite a while, but had never collected enough proof.”, shot back Andy, her face a blank slate.

The blonde woman simply stared at Andy for a few seconds, before sighing and sagging back in her chair, looking several years older than she actually was in that moment. “Enoch, show them.”, she said softly.

Enoch looked hesitant, but after a pleading look from his wife, he relented. Ron watched on with bated breaths as he slowly pulled back his left sleeve, and despite knowing what would be under that piece of cloth, he couldn’t prevent the fear and anticipation of seeing the mark which had spread terror across the country in the first war.

He gasped when the dark mark came into sight…except, it wasn’t really the dark mark, whose images Ron had seen in books and newspapers. Instead of the blood red tattoo on lord Greengrass’s pale skin as Ron had expected, the flesh on his left forearm was … in horrific knots, the skin looking somewhat like the rotten stump of a tree, lump, ugly, and _scarred._

It almost looked like someone had tried to burn off the mark with a piece of red - hot metal, again and again, and Ron instantly knew who had done it.

 _Merlin….and I though putting myself under the cruciatus was insane,_ he thought, looking up and meeting Lord Greengrass’s eyes with a newfound sense of … respect. “Yes, my husband was a death eater in the first war.”, said Lady Greengrass, as if she was telling a sad, tragic story. _Well, it is one._

“But no one ever bothered to ask if he’d done so on his own free will.” She continued. “No, my husband was forced to join those brutes, monsters. He’d never join them of his own free will.”

“But … But how?”, Ron asked, bewildered. “It’s clear that you know occlumency, then how did they put you under the imperius?”

Enoch barked out a laugh, a gruff, bitter sound. “Simple. They didn’t. Instead, they kidnapped Daphne when she was less than a year old, and held her hostage with savages like Fenrir Greyback. They gave me an ultimatum – join us, or we’ll send you the pieces of your daughter by post, after having our ‘fun’ with her.”

“And so, I had to join them, where they forced me to sign a magically binding contract to offer them monetary aid. The rest, is history.”

“How – how do I know that you aren’t lying?”, Ron asked, though his voice lacked its previous bite, instead replaced by confusion. He, despite being a person on the light side who practiced dark magic, a grey person…had still continued to look at the world in shades of Black and White, good and evil.

If you have the dark mark, you’re evil, if Albus Dumbledore trusts you, you’re good – That had been his ideology in essence. But now …. apparently, there actually were some death eaters who _had_ been forced into servitude, into becoming Voldemort’s slaves.

_But what if this guy orphaned fifteen more children, just because it would save his family? Would it justify his actions?_

_…._

_Do they deserve forgiveness for such selfish actions?_

_What would you have done if your child had been captured? If Hermione or Ginny or Harry or Albus were kidnapped? Would you be willing to kill, murder people if it ensured their safety?_

Without even thinking about it, Ron already had his answer. If it came to it …. He knew that he could kill half of magical Britain if it meant those that he loved could be safe. It wasn’t even a question.

_Wait…you don’t love Har – Potter and Granger._

Luckily, another round of internal - conflict was dodged when Lord Greengrass spoke again. “Daphne, show them.”, he ordered, and his friend pulled down the high collar of her dress, revealing an ugly, purple, jagged scar on the back of her neck, right above where he himself had his name burnt into his skin. It was clearly a scar caused by a dark blade.

Ron felt sick to the core at the sight, unable to believe that his friend, someone he’d though for the past two days was pretty much a death eater, had just turned out to be not the villain, but a victim of the war. Once more, he’d betrayed his friends, just like he had done to Harry and Hermione…something which had eventually led to them leaving him.

They were right…Ron _wasn’t_ good enough. He’d never be good enough for anyone, because if he betrayed his friends _two fucking days_ after meeting them, what did that say about him. simple. It screamed that he was nothing more than an ungrateful, weak, disloyal tosser who didn’t deserve to live, let alone have friends.

Because he’d never be good enough. Because, in the end, he knew that he was just a useless piece of garbage to be tossed aside once used, because after that, he’d expended his utility, his worth.

_Will you shut up, mind? This is not the moment to – to think about that!_

Swallowing down his self – hatred, he forced himself to meet Lord Greengrass’s eyes, which looked strangely accusing in the faint light of the room. “I – I’m sorry.”, he said, stumbling over his words like the bumbling, hot headed fool he was.

“Don’t be.”, said Enoch, his voice emotionless once again as he pulled down his sleeve. “You weren’t the one who gave me my scar. And if you want to help, think about the terms.”

Ron didn’t even hesitate this time, and he was sure that Andy and Ted wouldn’t either. “I agree.”, he said firmly. For a moment, he remembered the Sorting Hat’s words – _whatever you do, don’t forget your Gryffindor roots,_ and a strange, foreign, yet comforting, warm feeling filled his heart as he saw the three Greengrass women’s relieved smiles.

 _Great…now, how do I help them?_ “Erm – You do know the Order of the Phoenix, don’t you?” he asked awkwardly, and Daphne snorted, a _very_ unladylike sound.

“The secret organization which half the country knows about?”, she joked. “No, we’ve never heard of it.”

Ron rolled hie eyes, but still smiled at her humour. “It’s well known that Albus Dumbledore is the leader of the Order. Now, all you need to do is join, cast the fidelius charm around the manor, swear a couple of blood oaths and you’re done.”

“But some of them will know that I’m an ex – death eater, and I’m a Slytherin.”, he said worriedly. “They’ll surely have a hard time accepting us into the Order.”

Ron flashed him a predatory grin, displaying the whites of his teeth, and the sight sent shivers of fear up Enoch’s spine. “Don’t worry, they don’t have a choice in the matter.”, he assured, while Andy smiled darkly in the background.

“What about our children in school?”, asked the Lady, and Ron just gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Hey, I’m perfectly capa –“, started Daphne, but was cut off by Ron.

“I’ll take care of Astoria…and Daphne is Theo’s baggage.”, he joked, earning a few light hearted chuckles, especially when Daphne huffed in annoyance, “I am _not_ baggage!”.

“You know, I’m very offended that you asked him before you asked us to join the Order.”, said Ted, mocking hurt, and Ron just waved a hand at him. “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll too join him when we go to meet Albus today. So, deal?”, he asked, standing up and offering a hand to the man opposite to him.

Enoch looked at his hand for a few moments, before grasping it in a firm handshake. “Deal.”, he said, with a happy smile, which Ron was glad to return.

As they shook hands, Ron felt his eyes automatically drawn to his left sleeve, and a shiver ran up his spine knowing the horror that lay hidden, directly beneath that layer of innocuous looking clothing.

For a moment, as his eye lay trained on the man’s left forearm, a tiny part in the recesses of Ron’s mind popped into life. _You feel good about this act, sure. But, are you really a good person, especially after how you regularly compare yourself to Voldemort and Grindelwald?_

However, that voice was instantly stamped out of existence by a darker, primal, parasitic part of Ron’s mind. **_Stupid Vermin,_** it hissed within his mind, and Ron felt a sudden spike of … anger, a wish to just destroy everything in his path, run through him, though it had gone as quickly as it had come.

But despite the … _thing’s_ …. efforts, Ron couldn’t help but notice the strange, uneasy feeling he felt in his gut as they walked towards the fireplace. It was almost like he was supposed to know something …to, to do something. But what, he had no idea.

_Ah, leave it. It’s probably your crazy mind playing tricks on you again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. Stuff is going down, and stuff is happening to Ron was well. To be honest, this meeting wasn't in my original draft, and is going to cause quite a few changes in the future.  
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated.  
> Fic of the day:  
> Strange visitors from another century - Izzyaro, posted on ffn  
> Slow to update, but very good fic nonetheless. Enjoyed it a lot.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not mine. 'Nuff said

Chapter 9: Detention with Dolores

Ronald Black’s POV

On the following Sunday night, Ron found himself heading towards Umbridge’s office for his detention, something which he had a bad feeling about. He knocked twice on the garishly pink door, and the woman’s high, disgustingly syrupy voice called out at once, “ENTER!”

With a building sense of trepidation in his gut, Ron walked into the room, and was nearly blinded by the décor. The entire room was a disgusting shade of pink. Everything, from her clothes, to the wallpapers, to even the tea set on the table was pink. Along with that, there were pictures of kittens and cats everywhere he looked, and Ron had a feeling that they were watching him, reporting his every movement to Umbridge through their low purrs and meowls.

“Please sit down, Mr. Black”, she said, beckoning to the chair in front of her with the same, sickeningly sweet voice.

Cautiously, peering around as if there was a trap somewhere, he sat down in the chair, and turned to her with a defiant expression. “Would you like some tea, Mr. Black?”

Ron cocked an eyebrow at the unexpected question. “Er – no thanks. I just ate a few snacks. Professor – “, he added hastily, seeing her glower.

“Well then, I believe we should begin your punishment.”, she said cheerfully, while summoning a quill and a parchment from the drawer. “Your punishment, shall be to write ‘I will not try to cause dissent among the students’, until I tell you to stop.”

Something was most definitely off. Writing lines was _not_ the punishment Ron had expected, but he picked up the quill nonetheless. However, the moment he touched it, he knew something was off about it, as he could sense Dark Magic rippling off in waves from it.

Hesitantly, he touched the quill to the paper and began to write, and it did go alright at first. However, right when he was on the third word, there was a sudden burning sensation on the back of his hand, causing him to pull it back. When he checked it, his eyes went wide at the sight.

There, carved into his skin, were the words he had written until now. He could feel the blood waiting to be let out, now one layer of skin less between it and the outside world. He turned to stare at the woman, who was smiling, a look which wouldn’t have been out of place on a cat near an open birdcage, with feathers strewn around it.

Instantly, he felt his rage begin to boil within him, and one of the teacups shattered. Umbridge simply tutted at him. “Tut, tut, Mr. Black. You’ll need to learn to control your magic. That’ll be fifteen more lines!”

Gritting his teeth, and trying his best to suppress his raging, black magic from whipping out, he continued to write, trying to ignore the pain. _Listen, Black. You’ve been under the bloody Cruciatus three times, and have stopped yourself from screaming. What is this pain compared to this?_

And yes, the dark, yet comforting part of his mind was right. Compared to the Cruciatus (and other forms of pain he’d endured. There did exist pain worse than the Cruciatus), this simple device was nothing but a scratch. Yes, it did draw blood, but every time he tapped into his emotions, he bled internally! This was nothing compared to internal bleeding.

By the 30th sentence, blood was slowly beginning to form rivulets on his wrist, which began to trickle down his hand. However, the pain was greatly subsided, as in his mind, he was assured that this pain was inconsequential compared to the other torture. Not to mention, he was also lost in contemplating different ways to deal with the toad, which pretty much meant that he was mentally asleep.

About an hour and a hundred lines later, the woman clapped her hands and announced, “Well, I guess that should be enough for today. Remember, you still do have to come here for the next three days as well, so don’t be late!”, and she just had to add a giggle, and Ron just barely suppressed his magic from destroying the room. Instead, it caused one of the paintings outside to fall to the ground, which Argus Filch would stumble upon the next morning.

“Yes”, Ron began, getting up and stretching his arms in a relaxed manner, as if her punishment hadn’t fazed him in the least. “I will be on time, ma’am. Thank you for disciplining me, professor.”, he added with a cheeky grin, before walking out of the room.

At once, he ran to the room of requirements to release his pent - up anger on some innocent dummies, and to practice a few new ideas he had in mind, which included a fire tornado and unassisted flight. As he ran, he finally paid attention to his wound, and nearly gasped at the extent of the injury.

The scar went deep, and Ron just hoped that he hadn’t scratched muscle, as it was his right hand, blood was flowing down in small, steady streams by now, and his hand had already begun swelling. Not to mention, it was throbbing quite painfully, and Ron had to grit his teeth to stifle a scream. He simply had to get to the RoR as quickly as possible to prevent any permanent injury, though the scar probably would never fade due to being inflicted by a dark artefact.

At last, the Room opened up to him, and he ran into it to find a nice cozy bedroom, with several healing salves and potions, along with a set of instructions floating before him.

Following the instructions, he quickly washed the cuts with water, staring with fascination at the red tinged water flowing down the sink, before immersing it in a bowl full of Murtlap Essence. The relief was immediate.

The moment his injuries touched the yellow liquid, he could feel the cooling effect begin to heal his ‘scrapes’. He would _not_ give Umbridge the satisfaction of knowing that she managed to hurt him. Instead, he would show her that he had an absurdly high pain tolerance level. He would show her that there was no limit to is power.

He’d teach her her a _lesson._

He simply sat there, eyes closed and hands in the murtlap for a few minutes, contemplating how to make the fire tornado work. First, he would need to master the wind spell, after which he would have to combine it with Incendio Maxima to create a deadly amalgam of the two.

There were two ways to do it. One, he could first cast the fire, before summoning and controlling the winds which would intersperse with the flames. Or two, he could simply make a new spell, and he personally wanted to try out two. Any doubts could be cleared in the Arithmancy lesson they had tomorrow.

Clearing his head, he got up and turned to the three dummies which had appeared behind him, and removed his shirt. “Give me all you’ve got.”, he ordered, loosening up his arms and legs, before the place exploded in a show of flames, water, light, sound, and spellfire.

***********

45 minutes later, Ron sat on a plush chair, applying burn and anti - scarring salve on his wounds which were much less numerous than before, as he had been concentrating on listening for the familiar ‘whoosh’ of a spell heading his way, instead of releasing his pent - up pain and anger.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t utilize his emotions, as he did release his anger in his offensive spells and unforgivables (Though, even now, he struggled to fire them. Out of every 20 attempts, he would manage to get only one, _true_ unforgivable out of his wand). Though, the fact that he, a fifteen-year-old could even cast the unforgivable curses was disturbing in its own right.

_Hmmmm, I wonder if it’s possible to increase your resistance to pain and the cruciatus in general._

At once, a parchment made its way towards him, and Ron picked it out of the air. It was clearly a pretty old one, and had only been preserved due to the Room of Requirement’s need for hogging everything in its clutches.

It looked to be a thesis paper of sorts, titled _How do the Unforgivables work, and is there a way to repel the Cruciatus? Johann Stravaski, 7 th year NEWTs thesis, 1929. _It was quite a bulky work, but the title was enticing enough to make him read it.

However, Ron couldn’t help but wonder, how he would have found the research subject for this paper, when he remembered that 1929 was right in the middle of Grindelwald’s reign of terror, and when Muggle Hunting was a legal sport. (he remembered that much from the history lessons. Grindelwald was quite an intimidating guy, and, well…males were always attracted to bloody and gory stories), so he probably went ahead and tortured some innocent Muggles.

That information alone almost made Ron throw the papers into the flames, but he still forced himself to look through it. He skipped the formal introductions as he didn’t understand half the words used in it, and went straight to page number 14, where the Cruciatus explanation started.

_The cruciatus curse is one of the three unforgivable curses, and if used on a fellow witch or wizard, can guarantee a lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban. From my research on myself and friends (with their permission), I have concluded that this curse targets the pain receptors of the victim’s body._

_Victims of this spell have described it as a billion fiery needles piercing their skin from the inside, and this is quite close to what really happens. In actuality, the spell targets the nerve endings and pain receptors, and overload them with stimuli, in most cases by heating them from the inside, which causes the fiery needles explanation._

_However, a person only goes insane of they are continually under the curse, as it causes the brain to create impenetrable occlumency shields to stifle the pain in the frontal part of the mind, and the person’s consciousness migrates to the rear of the brain, which is what causes insanity._

_In reality, the cruciatus doesn’t cause any serious long – term damage, apart from seizures, spasms and trauma. If a person regularly undergoes this curse, with regular intervals for resuscitation, then in theory, they should be able to eventually manage to go through this curse without even thrashing around._

_However, I warn you, this is all theory, and it is quite possible that the person might go insane, and even if they do manage to attain full immunity, it might come at the cost of a shortened lifespan of anywhere to 5 to 50 years cut off._

_There’s no way that this fellow actually submitted this for his thesis paper._ The author had gone into quite some detail, and Ron found his heart beating faster, and sweat erupting on his skin. It was quite possible that he could attain full immunity, but it was also possible that it could send him to the grave earlier than normal. And Ron didn’t want to die early.

Did he?

_Well, it’s not like I have anything to lose, and even if I do attain full immunity, there’s a pretty good chance that I live a normal amount of time. And even if I did die early, he said that it could be anywhere between 5 and 50, so that means an average of…..27.5 years less. _

_Eh, let’s check it out. The benefits far outweigh the costs._

_Imagine what people will think when they see my endurance. The new Merlin._

_Or another Gellert Grindelwald or Lord Voldemort._

He looked up what resuscitation involved, and noted in his mind that he needed to find or brew some Nerve healing potion. Apart from that, it just required constant exercise, and adequate rest, which wouldn’t be a problem as he slept twice a day with the time turner. However, he wouldn’t be starting today.

So, he walked over to where a pile of boxes was heaped on the floor, and called on the winds to throw them around, his mind engrossed in a mental image of Umbridge being torn apart by those very same winds.

 _‘IMPETUS TEMPESTATIS’_ , he yelled, spinning his wand in a circle above his head, and at once he could feel the winds begin to pick up, spinning around him in a whirlwind. Imagining the same tornado picking up the debris, he thrust his wand forward with a loud cry, and he felt the whirlwind move forward slowly, picking up the debris.

And even though the wind wasn’t nearly strong enough to pick up a person, only cause discomfort, or even cause serious damage in a battle, he was satisfied with the fact that it was much stronger than his previous attempts, and could actually throw around _some_ stuff.

But that didn’t change the fact, that whenever he exerted too much energy on a new spell, he felt really exhausted, and he dumped himself unceremoniously on a bed which had magically appeared behind him. Ten minutes of simply lying and doing nothing later, he got up, his stomach grumbling, and decided it was time to visit the kitchens (dinner seemed to have been ages ago).

Under a disillusionment and silencing charm, and with the time turner around his neck, he snuck out of the RoR, keeping an eye out for Ms. Norris.

Quietly, he snuck into the kitchens, grinning at the thought of the flabbergasted, yet ecstatic expressions that the elves would have at the sight of him coming in, less than an hour after dinner.

*****************

“Where on earth were you!”, Tracey screeched in his ear the moment he entered the common room.

Slytherin, as expected, hadn’t been exactly the most accommodating to him, especially he ‘allied’ himself with Daphne, Theo, Blaise, and a half blood. Apparently, he was only useful as long as he wasn’t taken by another family, and after that, he was nothing but a filthy blood traitor.

Taunts of ‘Blood – Traitor’ and ‘Worthless friend’ were thrown at him from his housemates, and though he’d deny it, every single one of them hurt as much as the last on. Honestly, the only reason he hadn’t snapped someone’s neck already was because of his friends, who were always by his side, as if they could shield him by just surrounding him at all times. Their actions never failed to warm his heart, even though he knew that he didn’t deserve their friendship.

He could see several people in the common room reading, some doing homework, and others simply chatting, while there was another pair of sixth years in the corner who were playing chess, and Ron’s eyes were glued to the board.

“Oh, I was in the kitchens, was feeling extra hungry today.”, he responded, his feet automatically taking him to the chess board, and he sat down cross legged near to the pair. The position was heavily advantageous to Black in terms of piece values, however, white had a direct two move checkmate, and it was clear that she was simply waiting for her opponent to take the bait rook.

Black captured the rook, and in two seconds, the king was on the ground, moaning in pain from the Bishop’s fist.

“Nice game! What’s your name?”, he complemented the winner, while the losing side had paid two galleons, and gone off to her friends, grumbling ‘blood – traitor’ under her breath.

“Oh, I’m Clara Martyris. And you’re the enigmatic Ronald Black, aren’t you?”, she said, smiling seductively, and Ron couldn’t stop his ears from heating up. She was quite a beautiful girl, with blonde hair, fair skin, green eyes, a sharp nose, and decidedly feminine features. Not to mention, was quite curvy (The angle at which she was leaning forward certainly did not help)

“Yeah, would you like to have a game?”, he asked, setting up the pieces on his side. Martyris seemed taken aback by the request, but soon had set up her own pieces with a flick of her wand.

“Sure, but I always play for money. How much are you putting?”, she said, placing a galleon to the side of the table, and Ron returned double the favour. _Being rich certainly is nice._

_Wait…I never got Ginny something. I must get her new robes, after all she did give up her own ones as a sign of solidarity with me._

“So, shall we begin?”, he asked, extending his hand. “Yes, we shall.”, she responded, shaking his hand surprisingly firmly, and the battle started.

Ron had to admit, Martyris was a really good player, and she almost trapped his pieces a number of times. Once, he caught an endangered bishop just in the nick of time, and his opponent had grinned at him, a something which made her face light up prettily, and set of butterflies in his stomach.

The game progressed, the position becoming more and more complex with every move. Slowly, spectators started coming in to watch the match, placing bets on who would win amongst themselves.

Little did Ron know, Clara Martyris was the champion of the previous under 15 tournament, and was widely regarded as the best student chess player in all of Hogwarts (the top rank of general chess player was held on to by the headmaster himself, followed by Minerva McGonaggal and Severus Snape)

At some point, even the head of house came in silently under a disillusionment charm without anyone noticing, and was watching the match intently. At last, Ron found an opening in an endgame position which was eerily similar to the live chessboard made by McGonagall.

He sacrificed his knight, which was taken by the queen to vacate a square. Immediately after that, the black bishop moved into checkmate the white king, and the game was over.

“Well, I guess this is mine.”, he said, pocketing the galleons, before shaking his opponent’s hand as was proper chess etiquette. “Well played, Martyris.”, he commended, all while smiling from ear to ear. It had been ages since he’d had a nice chess game, and this was quite a challenging one.

“Oh, please call me Clara. Did you know, that this is the first time I lost in my entire life?”, she said, smiling genuinely at him, though the bitter aftertaste of defeat was still present on her fair features.

“Oh, is that so? Well, even I haven’t lost a match in my entire time at Hogwarts. In fact, this was quite possibly the most difficult match I’ve ever played in my entire life. You are quite a good player.”

Just then, Snape decided to remove his charm causing a few gasps, and Ron to whip his wand out and point it at his teacher in an instant.

“Mr. Black, now would you remove me from wandpoint? I really don’t appreciate being held captive like a damsel in distress.”, he drawled, and Ron quickly pocketed his weapon. “Urm – sorry, professor. Just reflexes.”, he apologized, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Make sure not to do something like that again, Mr. Black.”, he said tonelessly. “Though, I watched your match, and I must admit, I was quite impressed by your skills at strategy. Did you know that Ms. Martyris is the current junior champion of England?”

Ron simply gawked at her in awe. “So _that’s_ why I thought I’d heard of you somewhere!”, he exclaimed incredulously, earning quite a few chuckles.

“Yup! And I was really holding back against you, so that victory did not really count, you know?”, she said, smirking, and Ron glared at her.

“Oh, yeah? Fine, rematch!”, he challenged, extending his hand again, but Snape cleared his throat before she could take it.

“However, you can have your rematch later. For now, the headmaster wishes to have some words with Black.”, he said, sending a disapproving and calculating look towards him. _Oh no, he found out about the speech. I should not have done that. I lost control of the situation._

As they walked out of the dungeons, Ron could feel the hairs on his neck stand up in fear. _What will happen? Am I going to be expelled?_ But then, he remembered the scars on his hand, and a feeling of…determination, swept through him.

_No, they can’t possibly expel me just due to a few words, can they? And on a different note, I can’t let anyone see these scars. I will not give Umbridge the satisfaction of knowing that I had to go sniveling for help. I will deal with her on my own, and besides, Dumbledore has a lot more important things at hand._

“Chocolate Frogs”, Snape drawled emotionlessly, and the door to the headmaster’s office opened. With fingers crossed, Ron entered the room and turned to the table, where Albus was peering at him with a calculating look in his blue eyes, over his half – moon spectacles. His eyes had lost the twinkle which Ron had grown used to, and now he was looking at him as if he might be dangerous.

Absently, Ron wondered if Tom Riddle too had ever been in a similar situation. _Oh wait, wasn’t I spouting out how I wanted people to fear me?_

“Do have a seat, Mr. Black.”, and Ron flinched at the name with which he was addressed. Not the warm, cheerful _Ron_ he had come to like, but cold, emotionless _Mr. Black_. “Lemon drop?”

“No thanks, professor. I just came from the kitchens.”

And instead of the expected chuckle, his face remained expressionless, like a mask of marble. Unbreakable. Unyielding. “Alright then.”, he sighed. “I’ve brought you here to talk to you about your…. speech in the Arithmancy class on Sunday.”

There it was. The disappointment, the moment he would say that he wasn’t welcome there anymore. “I’m…sorry professor.”, he mumbled, but inside him, there was still a part which wanted to be feared, admired, respected.

“Tell me, why did you say that you ‘wanted to be feared’? And please answer truthfully.”

“I…I just spoke the truth, sir. After – _they,_ threw me away, I was practically all alone in the world, and I wanted revenge. Yes, I admit, that was actually what went on in my mind after I stopped crying. A need for vengeance, a desire to make them cry like they made me. I wanted them to hurt.”

“And that quickly progressed to wanting everyone to fear me.”

There was a pregnant pause for a few moments, where the two sets of blue eyes clashed, when suddenly, Ron felt a small nudge from a presence moving around in his mind, and quickly broke eye contact. “Please sir, there’s no need to use legilimency.”

Albus removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose in worry. “You know, I once knew a boy who too was driven by a need for vengeance against life itself. He too was all alone, and he wanted to make everyone fear him.”

“Could this boy go by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle?”

Albus raised his eyebrows at the speed with which he had deduced the person’s name, but quickly regained his composure. He had to remember that this Ron was not the Ron he knew from a couple of years ago.

“Yes, and he went on to become a murderer, a truly despicable man called Lord Voldemort.”

In the room, the only person who flinched was Severus Snape, as the other two were staring at each other warily.

“So, is that it?”, Ron asked, bitterness and anger rising within him. “Just because I suddenly became powerful, everyone starts thinking of me as another dark lord? A murderer?”

“Ron – “, Albus cautioned, but Ron had had enough.

Yes, when he thought about being like Lord Voldemort, he did want people to fear him, and so far, they had begun to fear him a bit. But that didn’t mean that he would become a murderer. He wanted to scare people with the amount of power he, a 15-year-old possessed, not by murdering innocents just for fun! He wanted to be feared by people in the same way that Albus Dumbledore was feared.

Yes, he’d said it. People feared Albus Dumbledore, and warning, it wasn’t only the death eater who did so. He’d seen the look in his biological parents’ eyes when they spoke of the old man, and it was plain to anyone with a brain that it wasn’t only respect. No…because to have someone respect you, as far as Ron knew, they needed to fear you a bit as well. And people _feared_ Albus Dumbledore, because they knew, that despite kind and caring, if he wanted to he could destroy them without a second thought, as easily as breathing was for him.

He was irritated with it all, with how _weak_ and untrustworthy people were. First, no one ever thought of him being capable of doing anything, and now that he had made a place for himself in the world, they began labelling him as a madman! A danger to society!

“No Albus, I’ve had enough. Just because I start displaying power, because I dared to get out of my role as a ‘sidekick’, a ‘useless clown’, people start labelling me as a danger, as a murderer who’s going to murder millions! Yes, I accept that I want to make people fear me, but I want to instill fear in them with the knowledge that a fifteen – year – old possesses such absurd amounts of power, not by massacring innocents!”

By now, he had gotten up from his seat and was yelling. The paintings on the walls were cowering in fear at his sight, and if he looked into a mirror, he would have seen the devil himself. His blood red hair was whipping around, his eyes were blazing their disturbing blue, and there was just a tinge of shade black in them, swirling around in those pools. His destructive magic was cackling around him, causing the portraits to shake and several nick – knacks to fall to the ground and shatter.

Out of nowhere, Ron found himself hit with a calming charm by the headmaster, who was staring at him with wide eyes. _Merlin…when did this happen?_ , he asked himself, shocked at the rate at which Ronald’s magic was becoming more and more violent. Even Severus had his wand out, ready to bind him in an instant.

“Ron, my boy …. calm down, nobody’s accusing you of being an evil person.”, Albus said soothingly, one hand rubbing the child’s back calmingly.

“But…but you saw how they were looking at me after the starting feast, like I was some sort of monster, a rabid dog which had to be put down.”, he said, voice slurred like he was drunk, with a desperate edge to his voice which Albus never thought he would hear from Ronald. _He’s ... despite saying that he craves to be feared, in reality he just wants to be … accepted._

“No Ron, no one thinks of you like that. They’re just…jealous of how strong you’ve become. Because you know, people, when they don’t understand something, they tend to lash out at them, and they don’t understand how you became so strong so quickly.”

But his words had no effect on the redhead as he had lost consciousness, a trickle of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Heart beating wildly in panic, Albus quickly hit him with a reviving spell and a spell for stifling any bleeding, while Severus fed him a calming draught and cut reversal potion.

5 tense minutes later, Ron finally woke up, looking around groggily. “Er – where am I?”, he asked, blinking owlishly at the strange surroundings.

Both professors sighed in relief. “Ah, you’re finally back to the world of the living, Ronald.”, Albus said smiling at him. _His accidental magic must have taken quite a bit out of him._

“What, you brought me back from the dead?”, he joked, eliciting a chuckle from the headmaster and a scowl from his head of house. “Thank you for helping me out, professors, and I promise I won’t make any more such speeches again, and make friends instead.”

“Yes”, Dumbledore nodded. “You would do good to do that. You can’t imagine what I had to do to stop Dolores from finding out.”

“Once again, thank you, Albus, professor Snape.”, he said from the door of the office. “Oh, no need to mention it. But do take better care of yourself.”

“Yes, I will, I will.”, Ron replied chuckling, his voice muffled through the walls. No one had noticed the writing on Ron’s hand, for it had been hidden within his robes the entire meeting.

Once he was out of earshot, the two teachers turned to each other. “Severus, take care of him. Don’t let him turn to the dark.”

“Yes Albus, I will.”

Little did Albus know that Severus had sensed the darkness emanating from Ron, but for some reason, he didn’t want to stop him. He wanted to see the beautiful sight which was an immensely powerful, ambivalent Ronald Black.

Severus Snape himself practiced the Dark Arts, and they didn’t deserve the prejudice many people had against them. Yes, there were of course limits to be maintained, but apart from that, they had saved his life innumerable times.

Ronald was making a lot of enemies. And he would need as much power as required in order to keep himself and those he cared for safe. Severus wasn’t one to deny him of that right.

**************

In the Gryffindor common room, Harry Potter was nursing his injuries, while the rest of the house was worrying over him. “You know”, he said in a dead, toneless voice. “Ron went in there before me, and he stayed there for an hour, while I was there for just 30 minutes.”

“Don’t worry about the bloody snake, Harry.”, Angelina Johnson assured from behind him, and he whipped around at once. “Don’t you _dare_ insult my friend.”, he said getting right into her face.

And even though he was quite possibly the shortest guy in the room, the murderous look on his face was enough to scare anyone. For a second, his eyes flashed red, and only Angelina caught the blood freezing sight.

Suddenly, Hermione spoke from where she was hugging her knees on her favourite couch. “No, Harry. He’s not _our_ Ron anymore. He’s …. changed.”

Harry scoffed at her in return. “Oh, how can you say that! He’s still our Ron. Red hair, tall and lanky, blue eyes, and a chess fanatic!”, however, there was a slightly desperate and delirious edge to his voice.

“No Harry, wasn’t your mind in class during Arithmancy that day?”, she asked, her voice strangely lacking the passion it carried when explaining something to a person. “Don’t you remember, how when he had to introduce himself, he said that he wanted to be the most powerful … to make people fear him? Just like Grindelwald and Voldemort wanted people to fear them as well?”

“Our Ron was not like this, scary, powerful, cunning, and dangerous. We…we hurt him too much”

They didn’t even notice the rest of the Gryffindors who were listening in on their conversation, and they too had to agree with Hermione’s words.

Harry sighed in defeat and despair. “Yeah, you’re right, Hermione. We killed him. We killed our Ron.”

**************

In the Slytherin common rooms, the moment Ron entered, his four new friends were all over him. Suddenly, there was a gasp from Theo and he raised his hand to reveal the blood quill scar.

“What the fuck is this, Ron!”, he exclaimed in shock and worry. “Oh, er – its nothing!”, he mumbled, not wanting them to know of his injuries. _Bloody hell of all times my body choses this moment to slip up._

“This is not nothing! Tell me, who used a blood quill on you, was it Umbridge? Dumbledore?”, Tracey shrieked. “Could you guys calm down and let him explain?”, Blaise suddenly bellowed, making everyone go quite and Ron looked at him in awe.

He had known that Blaise was usually a calm and reserved person, but this was a side of him he’d never seen before, and it was quite impressive. “Yes, now Ron, explain what really happened to you.”

“Er – this is basically Umbridge’s method of detention, making us write with a blood quill. Don’t worry, I already healed it with some Murtlap potion.”

“THIS, IS DETENTION?”, screamed Tracey, and Ron had to suppress a chuckle, all while worrying about his ears. “This is bloody illegal! You ought to complain to someone!”

“Oh, don’t worry.”, he replied, waving her off. “I’ll have revenge someday. And when I do have it, the entire ministry’s gonna pay.”, and no one dared contradict him, because they knew, that with that look, he could quite probably burn the entire ministry to the ground if he wanted to.

But that didn’t stop them from fawning over him, and as he looked at these fellow students whom he had barely known for over a week, caring after him as if they had known him for years, he felt a warm fuzzy feeling in his heart. But there was still a small part of his mind that couldn’t shake off the feeling that they were with him only due to his status, and they still secretly believed in Blood Supremacy, and were death eaters in disguise.

That they really didn’t care about hi, just like Harry and Hermione had never truly cared for him.

“Why are you guys doing this?”, he asked suddenly. “I mean, I’ve known you for only a week, and you’re already fawning over me like I’ve known you for years.”

“Oh, shut up! we actually care about you, because as the saying goes, house above all.”, Tracey said, slapping his arm playfully, and Ron trusted her as she too was a half - blood, however, Ron’s eyes were on the other three. Blaise had his usual calm look on, though he didn’t seem too fazed by his comment. Daphne and Theo on the other hand looked unnaturally uncomfortable.

“Greengrass, Nott, what about the two of you? Do you actually like me, or are you here only due to my lordship? Do you believe in blood supremacy?”, he fired, voice cold as ice, cutting through their calm facades like a knife on butter.

“No, Ron, we actually like you. You’re quite a …unique person, unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”, she said, an expressionless mask on, causing him to wonder how good her occlumency was (he’d asked her how she did it. She’d said that she did know occlumency, but how good it was, he had no clue.)

“Then tell me, when I asked my questions, why did the two of you look decidedly uncomfortable?”, he pressed on, intent on getting to the root of the matter.

But before Daphne could even answer, Theo raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, fine, we’ll tell you the truth, or at least from my perspective.”

Now, Ron, Tracey, and Blaise were staring at Theo intently, waiting for an explanation. “Yes, you’re right. My father told me to be friends with you.”

It was like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs, leaving him empty from the inside. The temperature of the room seemed to drop a few degrees, and the lights dimmed due to Ron’s rampant magic, reflecting what he felt like inside. _No…no…I trusted him. not again…why does everyone have to betray me?_

“But listen, at the start I too found you interesting, not only because of your lordship, but as a person, and I genuinely wanted to become friends with you.”, he clarified, eyes frightened at Ron’s terrifying expression.

“Then tell me, why would your father tell you to tail me?”, he asked, in a perfectly calm and composed voice, which was hiding a sea of anger and pain beneath its surface.

Theo gulped before leaning in conspiratorially to answer. “Because the Dark Lord really is back, and my father is one of his death eaters.”

Suddenly, all the anger seemed to recede, and was instead replaced by confusion, causing him to blink owlishly at the weedy boy. _Why the hell would he be telling me this if he was sent to spy on me?_ “Yes, the dark lord has taken a special interest in you for all the incredible things you’ve done, and he might want to recruit you, which was why my father asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“Then – then won’t telling me this get you in trouble?”, he whispered, still a bit reeling from the revelation. He had obviously known that Lord Nott was a death eater, though Theo spying on him … it was understandably shocking.

“Yeah.”, he said, visibly sweating from fear. “But you know, I’ve talked to you, and you’re a pretty good person, so your friendship is more important to me. Besides, I don’t think he’ll ever really know that I talked to you.”

Ron was filled with an urge to tackle the thin boy to the ground, and hug the life out of him, but he had to restrain himself. He was in the midst of an interrogation.

Forcing himself to have a calm demeanour, he continued. “Theo, do you believe in Blood Supremacy?”

At once, his expression turned into a pained one, like he didn’t which was the lesser of two evils. “I – I don’t really know.”, and Ron’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a bit of anger.

“How can you not know?”

“I…my father always taught me that muggles deserve to die, and I can honestly see where he’s coming from – “

“You can symphatise with killing muggles?”, he asked incredulously, with a hint of disgust in his tone.

“No! you – you have to understand.”, by now, he looked to be close to tears, and Daphne glared at him. she made to wipe his tears away, but he pushed her away.

“Ron, when I was 6, a muggle man killed my mother in front of my own eyes.”, he said, in a different, perfectly calm, resolute voice.

Instantly, the entire room went silent, with no one talking. It appeared, that so far, only Daphne knew of his secret. Once more, Ron felt like the most wretched friend to have ever existed. First Daphne and her dad, and now Theo and his.

He felt tears of self - hatred and pity come to his eyes, and without thinking about it, lunged at his friend, engulfing him in a bone crushing hug, startling the recipient of the embrace (This was the first time that Ron had initiated a physical gesture with any of them, as he was strangely uncomfortable with physical contact)

It appeared that the others too had the same idea, and were all tickling and hugging their weedy friend who was laughing raucously, though there were still tears falling from his brown eyes.

Finally, when they had peeled themselves off from Theo, Ron turned to Daphne who was still smiling at them, her hair the most disheveled he’d ever seen. “And Daphne, what about you? And answer truthfully”, he said in a commanding tone.

Daphne faltered before answering. “I – At first, I wanted to be friends with you only because of your influence and power. However – “, she added quickly seeing the others’ darkening expressions.

“Over time, especially how you treated Theo, I have actually begun to like you as a person, and no, my father wasn’t a death eater in the war. He stayed neutral.” That part was obviously a blatant lie, but Ron and Daphne had decided to never talk about her past ever again, feeling that it was better to just keep something like that a secret. Some things just weren’t worth sharing.

“Do you believe in Blood Supremacy?”

“I – kind of.”, and Ron’s eyes widened in anger and surprise. After learning what had happened to her and her father, he’d thought that Daphne of all people would be against the death eaters and their philosophy. _Apparently, I was mistaken_.

“Especially after what Granger did to you, but then I saw that you, despite being raised by the Weasleys, actually have a liberal view of the world, so I’m not really sure anymore.” Ron raised an eyebrow at her. _Does she really care about what happened to me that much? And what does she mean by me having a liberal view?_

“What do you mean by ‘Liberal view’, and why do you even _partially_ believe in blood purism?”, he asked in a low voice, anger mixed with confusion.

“Liberal View, meaning you didn’t treat us horribly just because we came from old pureblood families, like your siblings would have done. And as to why I partially believe in blood purism, it’s not because of the bullshit about diluting wizarding blood, or stealing magic that the dark lord believes in.”

“Hell, my own mother is a half blood. I am a partial supporter of blood purity, because, due to the influx of muggleborns who are ignorant about ancient wizarding traditions, we are losing our roots and heritage. It’s not like I hate them simply because they are born, but because they are too arrogant to even consider our sides of things, and You – Know – Who didn’t really help things along.”

Ron’s mind was reeling from this new information, and he had to physically restrain himself from cursing her when she said that she was a partial believer of blood purism. However, the information which she had given, when considered … actually made sense.

Seeing his contemplative expression, Daphne continued her explanation. “For example, look at what we now celebrate on October 31st. Halloween, not Samhain. The celebrations we have on Halloween have absolutely no magical importance. However, before the dark lord came, we used to celebrate Samhain, a festival on which the veil between the living and dead was at its thinnest, and magic ran wild. Free.”

“On Samhain, we used to celebrate the dead, reminisce about fond memories. However, now we eat pumpkin pies and hang muggle lighting. On Samhain, we used to make offerings to magic herself, celebrate the beauties of life. _This_ is what I want to preserve.”

Daphne’s voice had taken an intoxicating fervor, and Ron find himself irresistibly enraptured by her speech. She actually believed in what she was saying, and Ron had to agree. He himself had only seen Samhain being celebrated once, when he was 1, the year uncles Fabian and Gideon had died. While mum and dad were mourning in the bedroom, Bill and Charlie had offered grains to magic, life, and death. They had kept pictures of all the people they had lost in the war, and he remembered how Bill and Charlie had enjoyed the festivities, even though he had only been one at the time. He still remembered how the magic in the air felt like he could almost cup it in his hands, like a tangible, beautiful substance, breathing life into all of them.

“I – you do have a point.”, he confessed. “However, that does not mean that I hate all muggleborns, because you have to understand that they too have their traditions which they grew up with their entire lives. You can’t just abandon them so easily.”

Daphne scoffed at him. “Well, they are coming into the wizarding world, so they ought to look at things from our perspective as well.”

 _This_ was what Ron didn’t like, the fact that purebloods felt that everything should go only their way, and he felt the familiar angry flush climb up the back of his neck. Blaise noticed this, and intervened right on time to prevent a Ron – splosion.

“Well, the best thing would be to have a combination of both, wouldn’t it?”, he said in a soothing tone. “I mean, let’s face it, the décor and food at Halloween is also pretty fun and interesting, the fault lies at the celebrations. So, the best solution would be to have the best aspect of both incorporated into the festival.”

Grumbling, both of them had to agree with Blaise’s words, because no one could deny that the food at the Halloween feast was always succulent (at least, the times they got to eat. Some freak accident always seemed to happen on Halloween in Hogwarts. _Hmm, maybe that might be because of evil forces being more powerful on Samhain_ )

Suddenly, Tracey yawned loudly, causing them to erupt into a fit of giggles. “Ew, don’t you know what toothpaste is, Tracey?”, Theo said through a pinched nose. “And children, I believe it’s getting late! Time for bed!”, Blaise said in a near perfect impression of McGonagall, causing a few more chuckles.

Still smiling, the group went to their respective dorm rooms and slept without nightmares for one day, waiting in anticipation for what the next day would bring.

********************

_To Lord Ronald Black,_

_Ronald, with this letter I hope to find you in good health and spirits. How’s Slytherin and the Gryffindors been treating you?_

_Anyways, I don’t have time for introductions, and so let me quickly get to why I sent you this letter. Now, as you know, my health is currently failing me, and so I am no longer able to represent the Prewitt seat in the Wizengamot, whose next session will be happening in about 2 more weeks._

_What role do you have to play in this? Well, when you emancipated yourself from the Weasley family, you didn’t really kick yourself out of the Prewitt line, and you still have a considerable amount of Prewitt blood in you. I read in the letters from Augusta Longbottom how good you are at speaking, and all the things you’ve accomplished after moving away from Potter’s shadow and the Weasleys, and I must say, I am quite impressed and surprised._

_Which is why, I am giving you the chance to acquire the Prewitt lordship, wealth, and properties. Should you accept, simply send me a letter and meet me at Prewitt manor on your next Hogsmeade weekend, which, if I’m not mistaken, is on this Friday. I hope you do accept the lordship._

_Love and greetings, Muriel Andal Prewitt_

******************

_To Lord Ronald Black,_

_Greetings, Lord Black. I hope your treasuries have been full, your Power boundless, and Magic powerful._

_Firstly, I have to congratulate you for all the impressive feats you’ve accomplished as a 15-year-old, and that too in just 2 months! I’ve heard all about your exploits in letters from my friends’ children, and the Daily Prophet most certainly isn’t doing a good job of spreading the news, or the truth, as you stated._

_Therefore, in lieu of your power and skill, I invite you to a meeting, to which only I and my closest allies have been invited for decades. I hope that you agree to an alliance between not just our two houses, but also between the two of us personally._

_I’ve heard of your skill at dueling, and the nature of dark magic you use, and I must say, it is quite intriguing, the ease with which you perform the dark arts, as I too, am an unashamed user of the dark arts. Together, we can attain power beyond what any wizard has ever even thought of, and push the boundaries of magic beyond where they are stuck now!_

_And so, I send you this invitation to this meeting, and should you accept, please send me an owl, and I will inform you of the timing and location._

_With cordial greetings and well wishes, Lord Gaunt._

***************

“What in Merlin’s name!”, Ron exclaimed after reading the two letters which had dropped in front of him at breakfast. As expected, the prophet still hadn’t reported the truth, the only interesting thing to have happened was Sturgis Podmore being sent to Azkaban something which Ron couldn’t care less about. The daily dose of hate mail still came, which Ron blew up promptly with a reductor, guaranteeing another detention from Umbridge, or Umbitch, as he liked to call her now.

However, today was different. Once the hate mail had been taken care of, showering the table with pieces of paper which Ron dispersed of with a quick _ventus_ , two very … unique, aerial creatures came an handed him the letters.

The letter from his great – aunt had been delivered by a sleek, red falcon, a creature which reflected the Gryffindor colors with its red feathers and golden claws and beak. Ron could sense several people staring at it in awe, but Ron’s eyes were fixed on the letter in its claws, which carried the Prewitt house crest.

The contents of the letter had been quite a shock to him, as aunt Muriel had never shown any interest in him before, but here she was, offering him another bloody lordship. When his friends had read the letter, there had been several gasps, and all of them told him to accept it (though only after checking for legal traps)

Lord Gaunt’s letter, on the other hand, had been borne by a menacing black winged eagle, which was clearly an apex predator by the way it snapped at the red falcon. Everyone seemed to be quite wary of it, and Ron even noticed Dumbledore eyeing him warily.

That letter had been …. weird. He had never even heard of a house called Gaunt, though it appeared that Blaise had some vague recollection of it. Not to mention, the letter didn’t really reveal anything much about Lord Gaunt, and Ron simply had a bad feeling about it. For a moment he was tempted to talk to Dumbledore about it, but discarded the thought. He wanted to do this one on his own, and maybe with some help from his friends.

And the first mystery he wanted to solve, was who on earth was Lord Gaunt, but before that, he had to write a letter to aunt Muriel.

Soon, they found themselves at the owlery, and Ron quickly transfigured a random stone into a sheet of paper. “Er – something to write with?”, he asked, and Tracey handed him a stick of lipstick of all things.

“Seriously Tracey?”, he deadpanned, causing Daphne to shove her and hand him a quill. “See, you don’t waste precious make up, and besides, lipstick is to be used on lips, not paper.”

A few minutes later, Ron finally managed to finish writing the letter (with a lot of Daphne’s nagging regarding proper language, Theo’s advice on formalities, Blaise complaining about his horrid handwriting, and Tracey whining that it wasn’t _elegant_ enough)

However, as they walked out of the tower, they stumbled into none other than Albus Dumbledore, who was smiling at them, eyes somehow twinkling even more wildly than usual. The sight made a small smile creep onto his face. _Dumbledore isn’t pissed at me anymore!_ “Ronald, could I please know who sent you those two letters?”

“Er – “, Ron mumbled, looking to his friends for help. “The one with the falcon came from aunt Muriel, asking me to accept the Prewitt lordship.”, he said truthfully, and Albus’s eyes widened in surprise

“Well, congratulations then! Though, I would also like to know who sent you the other letter.”, he said, and now his eyes had lost their twinkle.

But before Ron could become a bumbling mess, Tracey answered for him. “Yes professor, that one was from Daphne’s father, as an invitation to come visit him for Christmas.”, she said, handing the headmaster the other letter.

Ron had to suppress his eyes from widening, as he saw that the letter didn’t have a family crest anymore, which had instead been replaced by small, illegible handwriting. _Merlin, that’s some impressive transfiguration skills. Tracey you have McGonagall’s blessing._

Dumbledore examined it for a few moments, before returning it with a smile. “Alright then, I’ll let you go on your way. I was simply afraid that it was from a lord wanting to take advantage of you, Ronald.”, he said cheerfully, but with a slight warning in his tone, before turning and walking the other way.

Something about the way he said lord, just seemed to unnerve Ron, like he was dangerous, but he shrugged the feeling away. Any lord who wanted to hurt him would probably be dangerous.

“So, wanna solve this mystery?”, he asked, sending a sideways glance to his fellow Slytherins, who grinned conspiratorially at him.

“Well, to the genealogy charts it is!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, finally crossed the 100K mark, 10 chapter milestone, and over 500 hits! So ... Tom is really underestimating Ron, and it will come back to bite him in the arse.  
> Umbridge is being a bitch as usual, and that is why my OTP is Demumbridge (Dementor x Umbridge)  
> Ron ... well, he really needs to stop hating on himself so damn much. No matter what he says, using the cruciatus on yourself is not something you just do.  
> Fic of the day!  
> DragonHeart by BuckNC, posted on ffn  
> Romance and Adventure and Friendship and Humor and Ron! Gods, is Ron's characterization great in this one.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter, and don't intend to make any money from it.  
> Adding at a later date, I've corrected a plot hole a reader pointed out. Thank you to them!  
> Even later date, made a few very minor changes.

Chapter 11: The impact a letter has.

Ronald Weasley’s POV

The rest of the week passed ‘normally’, with Ron continuing to learn new, often dark spells, checking out an earthquake spell, honing his reflexes, and trying to make his new spell. Turned out, combination spells only worked between two fundamental spells, meaning spells which couldn’t be broken down into two constituent spells, which was why a fire tornado was possible.

The spell worked in a sort of loop, with the double rotation in the wand movement indicating the repeated spinning of the whirlwind, the slash the fire, and the jab the thrust. However, he was still working on stabilizing the winds, and had ended up in the hospital wing at least 4 times with broken bones, sprained wrists and ankles, and sometimes painful third - degree burns. When Pomfrey asked him what he had been doing, he answered truthfully, causing her to raise an eyebrow but say nothing else. Ron was sure that no one else would know of this.

He had also started his cruciatus training, and it was….slow and painful, for lack of better description. It had taken him a couple of tries, but in the end, he’d managed to brew the nerve repair and pain repair potions, as written in a copy of the half blood prince’s book he’d found in the RoR (he had no idea why it was even there.) He had two cauldrons of each stored in different places in the RoR, and always kept two vials of each, along with one pepper up on his person, in case he needed it.

Detention with Umbridge was getting even more interesting, and the toad’s flustered expression never got any less amusing. Since his cruciatus training had started, he barely flinched after even a hundred lines (which for some reason kept getting longer and longer), and that seemed to make Umbridge even more pissed. Thus, she had ordered a special blood quill, which even had his name engraved on it, and this one carved on his chest, right below where the Black crest was branded over his heart. And even though it hurt more than the normal one, if anything, it only made him more determined in his cruciatus exposure training.

And then there was the mystery of Lord Gaunt’s identity, which was why they were currently in the girls’ dorm, huddled around a dusty, less known book that Blaise had asked his mother to send him (Clementine Zabini was a truly terrifying woman), titled _History Of The Most Ancient And Noble Families Of Magical Europe._ She had also ordered an investigative historian to track down all records of the Gaunt family, and write down any new findings in the book.

The Gaunts were a very obscure family, and all the books in the library said that they had died out, but Daphne said that it was magically impossible to lie about your lordship on paper. Which meant that there was indeed a Lord Gaunt still alive.

With an excited feeling dancing around in his gut, making him extra jumpy, he watched as Blaise slowly opened the book to the page about family’s with G in England, and went directly to the investigator's notes.

_The Ancient and Most Noble House of Gaunt, were a family in England which was directly descended from Salazar Slytherin, and the last of them were Marvolo Gaunt, his son Morfin Gaunt, and Squib Daughter Merope Gaunt, as I found after some digging around._

_The Gaunts were a house notorious for dark wizardry, and for being parselmouths. However, due to generations of inbreeding and squandering of their wealth, they were reduced to a poor, disgraced house, whose last recorded place of existence was in a Muggle village called Little Hangleton in northern England. Strangely, when I inquired around the place, they called me a ‘freak’ and told me to get away. After a bit of light legilimency, I found out that strange things happened in the village, mostly revolving around the Gaunts._

_An old man’s mind revealed that long ago, there used to be a rich muggle family in the village with a handsome son. Then, one day, the lad ran away with the tramp’s (Marvolo Gaunt) ugly daughter, only to come back six months later with n idea of what had happened to him. Love Potion if you ask me._

_I do not know how this might matter to your search for Lord Gaunt’s identity, but I just have feeling about it. And I always have trusted my gut._

_Marvolo Gaunt was sent to Azkaban for assault on muggles, and he died a few years after being discharged. His son, Morfin, too was sent to Azkaban for the same reason, though he had a longer sentence._

_Those were the last known sighting of the Gaunts, as after Marvolo’s death, Morfin disappeared, and Merope vanished after her family’s imprisonment._

_We do not know if any of them had any offspring, but I consider it highly improbable, as if they did have an heir, he could claim the gaunt seat in the Wizengamot, a seat which has remained vacant for a long time, which leads me to believe that the Gaunts are an extinct family._

_That’s all the relevant information I could find out. That’ll be 300 galleons for my services, Lord Black._

A collective sigh of defeat escaped all of their lips. “Great, one more book telling us that there’s no lord Gaunt,” Ron moaned.

“But you can’t lie on parchment, as you would be violating magic itself!” Daphne said, running her hands to her once smooth, but now frazzled hair in frustration.

“Alright, Alright, calm down,” Blaise said, the only one among them who seemed to maintain his cool. “Let’s look at this rationally, what are the leads that we have?”

Ron stared at the paper intently, as if glaring at it would scare it into conceding the answer. Instead, all it did was run the words through his mind. _Dead….Gaunt….Slytherin….Unknown if they had kids. Wait.._

“Hey, what if either Merope or Morfin had a child who we didn’t know about?” both Tracey and he suggested at the same time.

“We have gone through this a million times. If they did have a child, then they would have claimed the seat for sure!”, Daphne said, annoyed at them.

“No”, Theo intervened. “Just consider the idea. If they did have a child – “

“Then they would surely be a parselmouth, wouldn’t they?” Ron breathed, eye wide in shock and excitement.

“Well, the only known Parselmouths we know of are you, Potter, and….”, Blaise said, eyes widening in shock and fear at the end.

“Voldemort,” whispered Ron. The others were so shocked that they didn’t flinch at the name.

“No, why on earth would you – know – who want to write you a letter?” Tracey said, clearly in denial, though there was clear uncertainty in her voice.

“Well, he’s already taken an interest in me due to my position as Lord of House Black, hasn’t he?”, he said, the pieces quickly falling into place like an Arithmancy equation. “The meeting was probably a death eater meeting, the secrecy because he wouldn’t want Dumbledore to know, the dark magic hints, and Voldemort would never be mad enough to walk into the middle of the Ministry. Then, the village … Little Hangleton! It might be the same place where Potter was taken to!”

The five of them exchanged a brief glance, shock and fear reflected in their eyes. Ron himself was feeling nauseous at how far Voldemort had gone to try and get to him, and he felt fear slowly begin to pool in his gut, like how rain filled a dry pond, slowly, but surely, until it was deep enough to completely submerge a man.

It was one thing to say the dark lord’s name, but it was something on a whole different level to receive a bloody letter from him inviting him to a DE meeting. He wasn’t Potter, who’d had face to face confrontations with Voldemort several times before he turned 15, and so he could almost feel his knees tremble in fear.

 _Well, at least he didn’t try to send an assassin after me or something,_ he thought, chuckling darkly under his breath.

 _Though,_ he thought. _When you think about it, the very idea of Lord Voldemort sending a letter to someone is quite odd, and even a dumb idea from him. I mean, what if there was something important in his past which I discovered through this?_

But, then again, this _was_ the same guy who created the most convoluted and stupid plan to get Potter’s blood, when he could’ve just asked Crouch to kidnap him at the start of the year. Or, if he wanted to kill him, could have just hit him with a killing curse when he’d been stuck in the back of Quirrell’s head.

“Ron … there do exist a few other rare families in Europe which can speak parseltongue. Who know if the dark lord is descended from one of them?” asked Blaise

Ron faltered for a second, before regaining his composure. “No … Voldemort came to school here, and his name … Riddle … his name was Tom Riddle, which is a muggle surname! It’s clear that his father was that muggle man, and mother Merope. He _must_ have descended from them!”

“So, what do you propose we do?” asked Theo.

“We go to Dumbledore, of course! He’ll surely have an answer,” he said confidently before getting up and running out of the door.

The other four exchanged a brief look, but followed him nonetheless. They had heard of Ron’s adventure with Potter and Granger in first year, along with the incident in the Chamber of Secrets in second year, and they couldn’t help but wonder, why he’d kept such a sought – after magical artefact in the middle of a school full of children in the first place, why there weren’t any alarming wards on the door, and why the trials were so simple. Also, why on earth hadn’t Dumbledore come to the chamber along with his phoenix?

None of them completely trusted Albus Dumbledore, but the pure trust Ron had in the old man made them reconsider their stances. Ron was one paranoid person, and the way he had explicit trust in Dumbledore, surely meant that he meant no harm, right?

***********

“Chocolate Frogs! Lemon Drops! Sugar quills! Ice mice!”, Ron said, pacing in front of the entrance to the headmaster’s office in frustration. _What on earth is the password?_

“Pumpkin Pasties! Bertie Bott’s every flavour beans!”

At once, there was a deep, rumbling sound, and the gargoyles swung to reveal the entrance to the office.

“Seriously, the password can simply be guessed so easily?”, Blaise inquired incredulously. 

“Yup! He’s just like that.”, chirped Ron happily, before prancing up the steps.

“Good evening, children, what brings all of you here?”, Dumbledore enquired from where he was seated behind his desk, seemingly as if he had been waiting for them to arrive.

“Er – professor, we lied about who sent the letter with the Black owl,” he said, blunt, and to the point.

The headmaster leaned forward in his seat, his interest peaked at this new information. Then again, anytime Ronald visited was always interesting. “Well, how is that so? The letter very clearly had no signs of tampering,” he said, eyes twinkling even more wildly.

“Tracey did some transfiguration gimmick on it, which transformed it to a random muggle address,” replied Daphne, challenging the headmaster to break past her occlumency shields, which he was currently trying to penetrate.

“Well, then I have to commend you at your skill at the art, Mrs. Davis. 10 points to Slytherin. Now, who was the letter really from?”

The 5 exchanged a quick look, wondering who should reveal the information, and by unspoken consent, they agreed with Ron, due to his flair and love for dramatics. They always did provide for good laughs, after all, and if there was one thing which the five of them shared in common, it was their love for a good laugh.

“Well, a certain Lord Gaunt sent me the letter, inviting me to a meeting of his closest allies,” he said, deliberately making him wait to get what he wanted, if only for the joy of seeing the uncontrolled curiosity on his features.

Dumbledore’s curiosity was now tinged with a bit of uncertainty. _Gaunt…where have I heard that name before?_

“Well, he addressed the letter only as Lord Gaunt, and naturally, we would prefer to find his identity before returning a response, which was why we went on a wild goose chase for it, and discovered his identity a few minutes ago.”

“Mr. Black, please stop piquing my curiosity and watching my anxiousness. Trust me, you do not want to be in my position,” Dumbledore joked, surprising the other Slytherins at the ease with which he conversed with Ron, but the red head simply smiled in response. _These two surely look like they’ve spent a lot of time together._

“Alright, alright, I’ll have mercy on you. The Gaunts are directly descended from Salazar Slytherin, and all of them are parseltongues. Now, all books state that the Gaunts died out, but we have evidence that Merope Gaunt had a son, who went by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

The silence in the room was like a balloon which could be burst with a pin, so palpable that a single word could shatter it into a million pieces. Dumbledore had gone deathly pale, while the others were still smirking, though their lower lips were trembling slightly. “And Tom Marvolo Riddle, is the original name, of a certain Lord Voldemort,” he finished, though it wasn’t really needed.

“Oh Merlin…Gods,” Dumbledore whispered, still in shock. _No …. Tom couldn’t be after Ron so desperately._

“Professor? Are you alright?”, Ron asked, stepping forward.

“Yes, yes, I’m alright.”, he answered, using his occlumency to calm himself down. _Calm down. Ronald is perfectly safe, at Hogwarts, and here, Tom will never be able to reach him. Not on my watch. Gods, I’ve really grown attached to him, haven’t I?_

“I do understand where you’re coming from, but I require more evidence,” he said with a forced calm.

“The parseltongue is an obvious hint. Then, the last recorded Gaunts were Marvolo Gaunt, and his children, Merope and Morfin. Riddle’s middle name is Marvolo. He is also quite literally the heir of Slytherin, which was why he opened the chamber and killed Myrtle, as Ron told us earlier,” explained Blaise, taking over from Ron.

“The village could quite possibly be … wherever he abducted Harry to,” finished Ron. Only Dumbledore noted the worry still persisting in Ron’s tone, and how he used Harry, instead of Potter.

“The meeting in the letter could quite possibly refer to a death eater meeting, hence the secrecy. And he couldn’t possibly claim the Gaunt seat, as the Dark Lord walking into the ministry would be a very stupid move. He mentioned in his letter that he was an unashamed practice of the dark arts, and also, Morfin and Marvolo had been sent to Azkaban once, and Merope disappeared during that time, and we have no idea what she might have gotten up to in that time,” completed Daphne.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and massaged his forehead, feeling much more tired than he had felt in a long time. This was quite a lot of information to take in….and five school children had discovered this before he had.

“You five can’t imagine how much you have helped me, and the country with your action. Do accept 35 points each to Slytherin house for your actions,” he said, smiling at them from below his crescent glasses.

“However, the important question now, is what to do with our dark lord problem, which is why we came to you, professor,” said Theo, and Dumbledore peered at them with a grave, yet contemplative expression.

“That … is something, which I believe you should leave to me,” said Dumbledore.

“Well,” cut in Ron. “He did send me a letter, so I believe it’s common courtesy to return a response, isn’t it?”, he said, by his tone, it was hard to distinguish if he was joking, or if he was being serious.

“Please don’t tell me that you want to send a letter to the you – know – who now,” sighed Tracey, and Ron raised an eyebrow at her.

“Come on, even I’m not that stupid. I meant sending a letter to, say, Lucius Malfoy, telling him in not soft words that messing with me isn’t a good idea,” he said, and only Dumbledore knew that he’d probably place an obscure, and excruciatingly painful hex on the letter to get back at Lucius Malfoy for hurting his sister in with Tom Riddle’s diary, an artefact which he _still_ hadn’t been able to identify.

“And that, is still a very stupid idea, because you’ll be instigating a death eater, and then you’ll have the head of the Malfoy family on your tail,” berated Blaise, causing Ron to scowl as Dumbledore looked upon the scene, smiling at their banter.

“Oh, come on!” he protested. “It’ll be fun!”, and Tracey finally lost it and smacked him hard on the back of his head.

“What was that for!”, he asked as the others chuckled at him.

*************

Hogsmeade weekend soon arrived, and Ron found himself in the headmaster’s office with the heads of houses, getting ready to floo to Prewitt Manor.

“So, you mean to tell me, that in one day, you received a letter granting you another lordship, and also a letter from the dark lord himself, basically asking you to become a death eater.”, professor Flitwick summarized incredulously, and still in a fair bit of shock and fear.

“Yeah, that’s the gist, professor,” Ron replied absentmindedly, fixing up his robes to make him presentable before Muriel Prewitt, one of the pickiest women he knew, if not the pickiest.

“And you’re not fazed in the slightest?” asked the Snape, and Ron rolled his eyes at the man, even though his tongue went dry at the thought of Voldemort coming after him and his friends, and only because he owned the Black vaults. _No wonder he thought it’d be a good idea to send me a letter, if he knew that a few words on a piece of parchment could cause such a reaction from me._

McGonagall sighed at him, her brow creased in worry. “You really need to be careful, Mr. Black.”

Ron shrugged at her. “I _am_ careful, but even that won’t help me with the rate at which trouble has been finding me since first - year.”

Just then, the fireplace flared to life, and Ron waved a hasty goodbye to the teachers before walking into the flames, Albus at his side.

A few seconds later, Ron found himself in the fireplace, green flames spinning around him, and he stumbled out onto the red carpeted floor of Prewitt manor, a place he’d only been to once before. Once again, there was the painful, dizzying bout of illness he’d been recently feeling whenever he travelled magically, but he managed to conceal it under his excitement.

“Oh, good morning, Ronald, Albus,” Muriel greeted from where she was sitting on a rocking chair, knitting a red woolen sweater. Her tone was sweeter than Ron had ever heard, though there was a bit of mistrust when she addressed the headmaster.

“Good morning, Aunt Muriel,” Ron greeted in return. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you, Ronald. Please come here, and let’s start the proceedings. I’m sure that you want to enjoy your Hogsmeade weekend.”

Ron cocked an eyebrow at the warmth in her tone, and how she genuinely seemed to care for his wellbeing, but went and sat on the chair in front of the table with papers on them, while Albus conjured up a chair which he occupied.

“So, all you need to do is sign these papers, and then I’ll need a drop of blood to certify that it’s really you,” she said, pushing a paper to him, which he couldn’t be bothered to read.

Ron looked at her in surprise. “That’s it? The Black house required a _lot_ of blood,” he said, shuddering at the memory.

“The Blacks were a Dark aligned house, but the Prewitts have always been light. There’s not much blood magic involved here.”

“Well, that’s weird. At least the wardstones ought to require some blood. Isn’t blood the most powerful fuel for magic?”

Muriel eyes him appreciatively, as if seeing him in a new light. “Huh, you’ve actually got a good head on those shoulders. Yes, all wards require blood, including these. Just not as much as the Black wards must have required.”

“Yeah, you did make that fact clear in the letter,” he grumbled in reply, before grabbing a quill from his pocket, and signing the paper. There was another spot, on which was marked as ‘apply blood here’, and Ron made a small cut on his thumb, before pressing it to the spot.

The blood oozed out of the laceration, before it slowly got absorbed and diffused into the paper, giving it a slight crimson tint.

“Now that that’s done, let’s visit the Wardstone. Twinkle!” she called out, and a house elf in dirty rags popped in front of them.

“What can Twinkle be doing for Mistress?” she asked eagerly, large blue eyes looking between the trio.

“Twinkle, take us to the wardstone, and this is your new master. Also, inform the other elves of this,” she commanded, a hint of disgust in her tone.

“Good morning, Master! What is your name being?” she asked, just as eager as before.

“Oh, my name is Ron, and please call me that. No need to call me master,” he said kindly, though his voice also had the underlying hardness of an order.

“Ok, master Ron! Please take Twinkle’s hand,” she said, extending her right hand, and Ron mentally sighed. House elves were loyal, in fact, too loyal.

“Twinkle, please call me only Ron. And also, please wear a uniform when you’re working, and if you need any help for _anything at all_ , come to me at once,” he ordered while taking her hand, and the house elf looked at him with a strange expression, while Muriel glared at him for showing compassion to the elf.

“Take us, Twinkle,” she said curtly, and the sucked – through – a – pipe feeling of apparition overcame his sense once more, before he found himself in another dank dungeon, with another blue wardstone in the center.

However, this room seemed to have been used regularly, and even the wardstone was much smaller than the Black once, the runes on it sparser.

Once again, he had to do the same blood ritual, though it was less painful than Black Manor, and there was only a slight difference in the chant. A few minutes later, the three apparated back to the hall with Twinkle’s help, and walked over to the floo.

“Thank you, and stay well, aunt Muriel!” he waved off as he spun around in the fireplace. He just barely caught his aunt’s return, before they stumbled out into the floo of the three broomsticks, and Ron fell right into Cho Chang and another blonde girl, who were talking in whispers.

Shaking his head to clear the feeling of dizziness, he found that he was on the floor, sprawled over Cho and the other girl, while the occupants of the pub were looking at him with curious and amused expressions.

Picking himself up, he helped the other two girls up as well, and brushed imaginary dust from his robes “Headmaster, remind me again why we didn’t just ask Fawkes to take us,” he said in an attempt to salvage his already bruised dignity.

“I’m afraid that he is currently being rebirthed, Ronald,” he said, chuckling under his breath at Ron’s expense. Ron quickly turned to the two Ravenclaws in front of him.

“Oh, I’m sorry for knocking you over like an idiot, Cho, and….is that you, Luna?” he asked, surprised at seeing Ginny’s childhood friend.

“Oh, it’s no problem, Ronald, though I think Harry might be a bit jealous of you,” she said in that same dreamy voice that he remembered from years ago.

“Oh great, Potter and Granger simply had to be here. But what I don’t understand, is why he would be jealous of me for nearly breaking all of your bones,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Oh, that is not my secret to tell, I’m afraid. You do have a lot of Blibbering humdingers around you, though, Ronald, it appears you are in quite the good mood today,” she observed, humming at him thoughtfully, and Ron shook his head at the eccentric girl. _I swear she lives in a plane beyond our comprehension._

“I believe I should leave you alone to enjoy the rest of your Hogsmeade weekend, Mr. Black,” said Albus, though his tone conveyed the unspoken message, _do_ _not doing anything stupid._

“And where will you be?”

“Oh, I shall be having a discussion with a few of my academic colleagues,” he said with a small smile, before walking out of the front door, leaving behind an inn full of gaping students. Ron had the distinct feeling that Fawkes wasn’t really being reborn, and was at Dumbledore’s beck and call at all times

Ron simply rolled his eyes, before falling the old wizard out of the door. _Honestly, that wizard is way too eccentric for even me at times._

As he exited the musty pub, he found himself face to face with none other than his friends, all of them holding ice cream cones in their hands.

“Oh, hey guys! Where’s my ice cream?” he asked, feigning shock and hurt. Tracey chuckled before handing him the chocolate one which had two vanilla wizards dueling on top of it. With one quick lick, Ron murdered the two of them in cold blood, before beginning to work on the chocolate.

“So, how did it go?” Blaise asked, smiling at his blissful expression.

“Eh, it went fine”, he said, not paying too much attention to the dark – skinned teen. “Muriel wasn’t as much of a prick as usual, though we did have a sort of pseudo argument. Other than that, nothing too exciting. Hey, have you seen my sister?”

“Yeah, we saw her in Kwality Kwidditch Supplies, talking with Loony Lovegood,” answered Daphne. Ron’s expression immediately darkened at the name she had used to address the Ravenclaw.

“Her name’s Luna, not Loony, and you will call her that,” he said, tone frosty, and Daphne immediately corrected her mistake. As one, they wondered how Ron could go from the most relaxed of people, into an aspiring dark lord within a second.

Ron made his way to the quidditch store as quickly as possible, and as said, there were Luna and Ginny, talking animatedly about something or the other. Luna was the first to spot him, and began waving wildly at him.

“Ronald! Come over here! We were just having a very intriguing conversation on whether a Natfly can infect females pygmy puffs or not!” she said happily.

Ginny turned to him, and her expression brightened for a second, before it darkened with anger, and she stormed over to him. “Ronald Black! Where on earth were you these past 2 weeks?”, she yelled at him, and Ron instinctively cowered at her pissed tone. He had lived more than enough years at the burrow to know that when Molly or Ginny were hacked off at you, you didn’t protest and just took the scolding.

“Er – I was sort of busy.”

“BUSY! SO BUSY THAT YOU WEREN’T ABLE TO COME VISIT YOUR SIS – “, but she was stopped by Ron’s hand on her mouth stopping her from speaking. Seeing Ron’s impish grin, she struggled harder against his hold, but all she did was get even more flustered, and let the others’ chuckles increase.

“Listen Gin, come with me to Madam Malkins, and I will tell you what I’ve been doing this past week. Promise,” he said soothingly, and his sister finally stopped struggling.

However, as soon as his hand was away from her mouth, she was behind him and had her arms around her brother before he could even blink. And even though he tried to wriggle his way out of her grasp, her hold was abnormally strong. _Damn …. All that Quidditch she must have played at the Burrow has made her extra strong._

“Good, now tell me what you’ve been doing all this time,” she demanded, tickling him slowly.

“I can’t, Ginny, it has to remain a secret,” he said, barely managing to control his laughter.

“If you don’t tell me, I will tell them your nickname and your original middle name!” she threatened, and Ron paled in fear. _NO! Not that!_

“Please Ginny …. it’s secret, because it is a dangerous secret,” he wheezed out, and she finally released her bear hug. When Ron turned to see her, she had a raised eyebrow, and a serious expression in her eyes from understanding the gravity of the situation.

“Fine, but why do we need to go to Madam Malkins?” she enquired, still a bit suspicious.

“Well,” he said, swinging an arm around her shoulders. “It might involve the need to buy you some new robes.”

“I don’t need any charity!” Ginny scoffed at him hotly.

“Oh, it’s not charity. Remember, you were the one who gave up new robes in my support, so I feel it is my responsibility to repay you. Not to mention, yours are getting a bit too …. tight, and I don’t want any boys leering at you.”

“No one’s ‘leering’ at me!”

“Oh yeah? Just yesterday I saw Dean Thomas and Colin Creevey staring at your chest!”, he responded, equally hotly. “And unless you let me buy you some wonderful robes, I’ll carry you kicking and screaming, and would you like that?” he said, completely serious.

“You do know that I’m a master of the Bat Bogey Hex, don’t you?”, she said challengingly.

“Oh yeah, well I’m a master of dueling and reflexes!”, he rebuked, drawing out his wand.

At once, there was a brown bat – bogey hex flying towards him, and he blocked it with a shield. A few more harmless spells were exchanged, and a few seconds later, Ginny found her arms locked to her side, and her wand in Ron’s hand.

“No, you wouldn’t _dare_ , Ronald.”, she said, a bit of fear in her voice now, but Ron grinned like the devil at her before hoisting her onto his shoulders.

“YOU LEAVE ME RIGHT NOW RONALD BI – “, but she found herself hit with a hex which repressed coherent speech, which was why Ron carried a screaming and thrashing Ginny on his shoulders, all the way to Madam Malkin, who was looking at them with an amused expression.

“Three sets of the best school robes you can find.”, he ordered, after putting her down and closing the door behind them. She was still under the modified, dark silencer and the upper body bind, and Ron leaned into her ear while the storekeeper rummaged for clothes.

“Here’s what the secret was.”, he whispered, soft enough that only she heard, and the red head girl instantly stopped thrashing, now listening closely to Ron’s story.

“Remember those two owls which I received 4 days ago? Well, the black one was from Voldemort.”, he said, getting to the point at once.

Ginny paled immediately, and her heart began beating faster in fear. She didn’t notice Ron remove the charms he’d placed her under. _What would Tom want with my brother? I swear, if he as much as touches Ron, I will kill him!_

“He wrote the letter as Lord Gaunt, and pretty much invited me to a death eater meeting. However, my friends and I discovered his true identity as Voldemort ad told Dumbledore about it.”

“Then what did you do?”

“It’s more about what I _wanted_ to do, but couldn’t do,” grumbled Ron, pissed that he hadn’t gotten a chance to get back at the person who’d hurt _his_ sister. “I wanted to send a hexed letter to Lucius Malfoy, and maybe even Riddle as well. Pity that my friends and Dumbledore didn’t allow it.”

She smacked him in the arm. “And they are right! You do not bloody well go around pissing off you – know – who and his death eaters.”

“But it would have been fun!”

“Still a stupid idea!”

“Mr. Black, Ms. Weasley!”, a voice suddenly came from behind them, and Ron turned to see the shopkeeper walking in with three robes in her hands.

The robes fit Ginny perfectly, and Ron had to admit, she looked quite attractive in them, the picture of regality and formality, though in his opinion, Ginny being Ginny could even make the blandest clothes look attractive.

“So, how do I look?” she asked, checking her robes in a mirror. Ron frowned at her reflection.

“I think it needs to be a tiny bit looser,” he said, and Ginny turned around to snarl at him.”

“Come on, Ron! No one’s going to be leering at me!” she scowled. “Now, how long do you plan to keep being an overprotective prat of a brother?”

“You know what, Ginny?” said Trace, looking her up and won appreciatively. “You look great! Don’t listen to Ron, he’s just way too much of a git at times.”

“Tracey, whose side are you on?”

“Ron,” said Theo. “Calm down, let her have some fun, will you? And besides, we all know that if you or the twins as much as see someone looking her, that unfortunate soul will end up ripped apart.”

All of the others nodded in agreement, but the scowl didn’t leave Ron’s face. Because, it wasn’t just any guy whom Ron didn’t want leering at Ginny, it was mostly one bastard with glasses and messy black hair.

Ron wasn’t blind, he knew that Ginny still hadn’t completely let go of her crush on Harry Potter, despite how much she was pissed off at the Gryffindor boy. You just couldn’t let go of three years of pining after a person, in a couple of months. And he didn’t want Ginny to find out the harsh way, like he had, that people like Potter and Granger didn’t notice you unless you were ‘good enough’ for them. He didn’t want her to have her heart broken by Potter the same way that Granger had broken his.

The rest of their time passed normally, with several people staring at them, a trip to the Quidditch store to buy Ginny supplies for her Chaser tryouts later (and that included a firebolt), though she refused to accept anything else despite Ron’s protests, saying that she didn’t want charity. Ron, knowing the Weasley pride, didn’t prod the topic after his third attempt, for fear of a bat bogey hex to the face. He also warned her not to piss Umbridge, and showed her the scars on his hand, causing her to release a string of expletives which would have made Sirius proud.

***********

Ginny Weasley’s POV

When Ginny had looked from Ron’s blood quill scars and back to his face, for the first time in her life, she found herself unable to understand her brother. When he had brought her the new robes, she’d seen _her_ Ron in him, the kind, caring, overprotective brother who could be a bit of a prat at times, the same brother who had given her his candy when she’d been hurt once.

And yet … she had seen the burn scars on Hermione’s arms, blue and black and painful. To her, they’d looked like dark magic, and the way Ron had never should any sign of guilt was just so … _not_ Ron. She also knew that what Hermione and Harry had done to her brother was wrong, but what he’d done to Hermione was taking it too far. As far as she knew, neither Hermione nor Harry had physically attacked Ron, and one of the first things she’d learnt was that, no matter how bad an argument got, you don’t do anything _permanent_ to the other person … and that was exactly what Ron had done.

She couldn’t connect _that_ Ron with the one who was telling her to stay careful, and she couldn’t deny the unease inside her which she’d been holding off for too long.

“Ron,” she said, her hand on his arm stopping his tirade about how much he wanted to throw Umbridge off the roof of Hogwarts. “I understand, and don’t worry, I won’t try and deliberately get into trouble. But I … wanted to talk to you about something.”

“It’s … I just – wanted to know what you did with Hermione in the great hall that day,” she started, and she could almost feel the temperature in the room drop as Ron’s friends held their breaths. Ron opened his mouth to reply, his eyes having lost the warmth they’d carried just a few seconds ago, but Ginny cut in, knowing that if she stopped, she wouldn’t be able to speak again.

“No, I mean, I know what they did to you was horrible and wrong,” she said, her voice now lowering to a whisper. “But – you didn’t see the scars on Hermione’s arms. They’re … these blue and black, ugly, vein like scars, and it took her 2 weeks to make them get back to a _normal_ color. Lavender and Neville told me that both she and Harry wake up every second night, screaming … like they’re having nightmares.”

For a split second, she thought she saw a flicker of indescribable pain. Of remorse and guilt, flit over his eyes, before they were replaced by a cold, indifferent look. A sick, hollow, _cruel_ smile disfigured his lips.

Ginny couldn’t say if he’d really enjoyed torturing Hermione, or if it was a mask put in place to hide his own pain and remorse.

“Good,” he hissed, and Ginny flinched at his tone. “Let them have nightmares, just like I want them to. Let that _bitch_ have permanent scars, because I honestly couldn’t care less about her.”

“Ron,” she whispered. “You can’t just, just go around torturing people for revenge! It’s wrong! What they did was horrid, but can you not see that both of them have the same emotional scars that you have? That even Fred and George, _Fred and George, who have never showed regret for anything,_ are now repenting their actions? But – but leaving them with _physical_ scars is, it’s just unfair, end wrong, and _evil_!”

All of Ron’s friends held their breaths, waiting for Ron to say something. Said redhead was staring at Ginny, as if he couldn’t even recognize her. Abruptly, his head snapped forward, and Ginny found it hard to even breathe as his eyes came in inch before hers, boring straight into her soul.

“And tell me, why can’t I go around torturing people who _it,_ even when I didn’t deliberately tie her up, and it was my rampant magic which did the deed?”, he hissed, and Ginny finally understood why Lavender said that Hermione had once woken up screaming something about eyes.

“And tell me, do you think that they really have the same emotional scars as me? Do any of them know what it’s like to live without any love at all for months, to not have anyone who could ever understand what you’re going through, to hate yourself above any person?” he whispered, voice like fire: at first sight it _looked_ soft, but the moment you touched it, you ended up with burns.

“Tell me, do any of them know how it feels like to forget what _Love_ feels like? To tell yourself, every single day, that you’ll never be good enough, that in the end, you. Don’t. Matter. That you are nothing, that not a _single bloody person_ would shed a tear if you just up and killed yourself one day?”

“Tell me, do you know, what it feels like to learn, that the people whom you would have given your life for, never loved you in the first place, that your entire life has been a lie?”

Ginny wanted to crawl into a hole, curl into herself, and sleep forever, just like she had after her disastrous first year at Hogwarts. No wonder Hermione had become a sobbing mess, as his words cut deep into her, driving knives into her heart, and making her feel like the worst person to have ever existed, to _not_ have seen this.

But then, there was a part of her mind which was telling her that, no matter what reasons Ron used to justify his actions … they were still wrong. Ron wasn’t the only one who’d felt like he had, because even she herself had felt the exact same way after the whole Tom’s diary debacle. She knew that Harry too, had felt the same way for the first ten years of his life, from the stories Fred and George had told her about their rescue mission before first year. And neither of them had lashed out the way Ron had.

Harry hadn’t gone ahead and tortured his relatives for all they had done to him. instead, he’d been one of the kindest, bravest people she’d ever met (apart from abandoning Ron. She still didn’t know what had gone wrong with him then)

She herself hadn’t hunted down Lucius Malfoy and tried to kill him, she hadn’t tried to hex Draco Malfoy every single time she met him. Because, both of them knew that it was inherently _wrong_ to kill people, to torture for revenge.

_What happened to him? Where did my Ron go? One person can’t change so much over two months. I want my brother back!_

And so, instead of backing away like Hermione had done, she steeled herself - _I’ve been possessed by Tom Riddle. Surely, I won’t be scared of my own brother ­–_ and got right into her stubborn brother’s face, and decided that she had to give him a piece of her mind. Because she wouldn’t, _couldn’t,_ let him become a – a _monster._

“Yes,” she said quietly, but harshly, causing Ron to flinch backwards in surprise. “I know how it feels to feel all the things you said you felt. I know how it feels like to want to _kill_ y - yourself.”, and Ron flinched even more violently, almost subconsciously curling in on himself.

“You’re not the only one whose felt like no one would love them. Harry lived like that for 10 years, I lived like that for a large portion of time after my first year. And yet, do you think that he went on torturing his relatives? That I went and tried to kill Lucius Malfoy?”

“Ron”, she continued in a softer voice. “I’m not telling you to forgive them so soon, because I wouldn’t either. Harry doesn’t like his relatives either, but he doesn’t try to kill them because it’s _wrong._ I hate Lucius Malfoy, but even I would think twice before torturing him. Because it’s _wrong, and amoral._ But mainly, because it’ll make you a bad person, just like them.”

“Ron, I know that Harry and Hermione deeply regret their actions, and that at some point of time, you will have to forgive them. Even if Lucius Malfoy, came and properly apologized for all the horrible things he’s done … I would probably forgive him. Because, if someone is – is truly repenting their actions, like Harry and Hermione are, then you have to forgive them at some point, because you have to be a good person. You have to be the better, _fair_ person, unlike them, who were the unfair ones.”

“Because unless you do that, you’ll become a – a monster.”

Ron felt like someone had slapped him. A hundred times. And then given him a nice kick in the shins before releasing a blast ended skrewt inside his head.

Ginny’s words felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice – cold water over him. _Is – is that really what she thinks that I’m becoming? A monster? Like Voldemort?_

_Oh, who are you kidding! Didn’t you want to become like that yourself? You really are so damn twisted that you needed your sister, the one you’re supposed to be taking care of, to take care of you and give you a wake up call. How do you think that a monster like you is ever going to be able to care for her, let alone anyone?_

He wanted to say the he was sorry, to scream those words to every single person in the world. He wanted to run to the Weasleys and Harry and Hermione, and just … _talk._ He wanted to go help heal Hermione scars, he wanted apologize to Harry for being so selfish that he’d never even though about how Harry, despite having endured much more than him, was still so much of a better person.

 _I’m sorry,_ was the only thought in his mind.

But, as he opened his mouth to say those words, a sudden fog descended over his mind, like there was _something_ inside there, thrashing and screaming and destroying everything. _He,_ in that moment, wanted nothing more than to just kill Ginny and Harry and Hermione and everyone else who dared to oppose him. He wanted to feel their blood on his hands, he wanted to feel the satisfaction he felt when he destroyed a dummy, except now, he wanted to destroy Hogwarts, _no …_ he wanted to destroy _everything._

His head hurt, oh, Merlin, it hurt so much. It was almost as if his brain had been split into two separate parts, fire and water, and those two parts were doing their best to destroy the other. There was someone inside his head, who was picking apart the organ cell by cell with a pair of tweezers.

Ron fell to the ground, clutching his head in agony. He wanted to scream, but his throat seemed to be clogged by something. There was some, some _monster_ inside him, in his blood, inside his mind, in his magic, _under his skin._ And it wanted to burst out, to tear apart his skin and burst out like some monstrous insect coming out of a chrysalis.

 _NO!,_ his mind screamed, when there was a sudden spike in the pain, like the water and fire had _finally_ destroyed each other in an epic explosion of steam smoke, before the pain abruptly stopped, like, completely stopped, leaving no aftereffects at all, except for fatigue and dizziness. And, strangely, his mind seemed … clearer than before, like someone had quuite literally doused it in cold, crystal clear water.

“Ron! Ron!” someone was shrieking, a girl, and he turned to see Ginny’s face, when a sudden wave of dizziness struck him. Ron blinked for a few moments to drive away the dizziness, before getting up, legs shaking only slightly.

“Stop screaming, will you,” he said, no _ordered,_ with a hoarse , but emotionless voice, reflecting the current state of his mind – completely emotionless.

Instead of recoiling like a normal person would, Ginny simply lunged at him, holding her brother tight while her eyes barely held back tears. “What happened? Are you alright?”, she asked, as Theo helped him up while also glancing around the room.

“Yeah, that’s what I want to ask. What exactly happened there?” he groaned, rubbing his head, his voice regaining some of its usual emotion.

“You a’right there, lad?” the nearby owner of the ice cream stall asked from where he was currently kneeling next to Ron. “I think yer shoul’ go and see the nurse.”

“No, I’m really fine,” he protested, trying to figure out what the hell was happening to him. First the nausea when using magical transportation, and then _this._ And why on earth would it cause that sudden wave of calmness, like he’d just ingested a calming draught?

As expected, none of the people around them were buying his lame protests, and instead chose to tug him forcefully back to Hogwarts through the, now empty, streets, with Ginny being the most enthusiastic participant in Ron – tugging.

The same uneasy feeling he had felt when shaking Enoch’s hand had come back, and this time, it was much stronger than before. _I feel like I’m forgetting something, like, like I was supposed to learn something but forgot the entire lesson._

And yes, he _had_ forgotten something, or more specifically, something he’d learned had been erased from his memory. For quite some time, he wouldn’t remember the words Ginny had exchanged with him.

Deep inside Ron’s mind, the same … _thing,_ which had first come to life when he’d practiced blood magic for the first time, which had almost come out a few moments ago, one of the physical manifestations of darkness and destruction, which resided in Ron, screamed and thrashed against the chains of molten black iron which held it back.

 ** _LET ME GO, VERMIN! RELEASE ME, OR I WILL DESTROY YOU, LEAVE YOU NOTHING MORE THAN FLECKS OF DUST, LOST WITHIN MY INFINITE POWER!_** It screamed, a high - pitched, strange, dissonant, almost otherworldly sound which way above a normal human’s hearing range. The thing kept morphing, changing form from people’s faces, to weapons, but mostly, it stayed in the form of a shapeless black cloud which wanted nothing more than to destroy without consideration.

Its five captors strained against the sheer power of this monster, struggling to maintain the chains. They couldn’t release _It_ … not now. If they released _It_ , it would kill Ron, which would destroy the tool which would be used to destroy the Dark Lord once and for all.

Far away, fate lay limp in her own bindings, not even trying to escape from the bindings that the five, who were now holding back _It,_ had put around her.

 _Those five will learn their lesson_ she thought, eyeing her five captors. _But mostly, that one. He, will pay the most._

She was looking at their leader, a tall being, clothed completely in black robes which rippled around him. For the first time in all of existence, she felt something new, something different … something terrible.

She felt _fear._

*****************

Ronald Black’s POV

Two more weeks passed, with more and more homework, better dueling techniques in class, improving reflexes, and Ron finally managed to get the fire tornado right, after a total of 3 weeks of trying (over 5 weeks with time turner), which was why he was currently in the Room of Requirement, enjoying the sight of the spell _he_ had made, causing two whirlwinds of destruction to rip through the room, destroying things left and right.

The tornadoes weren’t _completely_ made of fire like Ron had hoped for, but were more like a lot of wind with streaks of flying fire thrown in. Well, it sure was understandable that the results had, because there was no way that a spell he’d made in 5 weeks would ever be that powerful.

Umbridge, as usual, was being the bitchiest bitch he’d ever had the misfortune of encountering. She seemed to have taken a special interest in him, handing him the most detentions out of anyone in the school, with Potter coming in at a close second. Ron himself, despite ‘truly’ trying, couldn’t help the veiled insults which escaped his lips every now and then, leading to his ‘deserved punishments’.

Along with that, he had also started ‘open air dueling’, which basically meant that he had started experimenting with fighting multiple opponents in different terrains like a ruined building, a snowy forest, a place resembling Diagon alley, etc.

This style was much more difficult and mentally challenging than normal dueling, as he actually had to constantly think on his feet here, while in normal dueling he simply flowed from one move to another, having drilled the reflexes into his mind and body through brute practice. However, this style was easily more his forte, as the obstacles and protected areas resembled a chess board in real life, something which his strategic mind feasted on. This was more a battle of wits and quick thinking than raw power and reflexes.

And finally, there was … whatever had happened in Hogsmeade that day. It wasn’t that he wasn’t fazed at all by it, in fact, he was quite afraid of what was happening to him, which was the exact reason why he’d asked his friends and Ginny to never mention the incident to anyone, most of all not any of the teachers. He absolutely hated people mothering over him, it brought back too many painful memories for his comfort.

He _had_ checked up in the library for any clue on whatever was happening to him, but had come back empty handed. The closest thing to anything even remotely helpful was a text which said that seers often felt similar sensations to what he had felt, but whatever affliction he had, he was sure that he wasn’t a seer.

And so, he’d just shoved the issue into the back of his mind, willing himself to forget about it and instead concentrated on improving himself, because he just had a feeling that whatever was happening to him, it was bad. And if he was … dying or something, he’d prefer to spend the rest of his time without the knowledge that his life was on a very short timer, thank you. He already had enough on his plate as it was.

And finally, he'd performed more blood magic, was preparing for his first blood ritual, and had found a _very_ interesting book.

As he gazed at the RoR from a height, the sight of the tornados filled him with a queer sense of warmth and pride, he felt like could have simply stood there for hours, gazing at his creation, at the power he could yield with just, what was essentially a piece of wood in his hand. Alas, today was a big day, for today was the first Wizengamot session of the year, and Ron had to represent the Black and Prewitt seats.

Andromeda and his friends had drilled the basic lessons into his head, and the basic idea was that there were three main factions in the Wizengamot: Light, Dark, and Neutral, and though they hadn’t directly told him which one to choose, he was sure that they would want him choose the Dark. Ron on the other hand, had different ideas, ideas which would grant him the most power and allies.

He picked up his new, elegant Wizengamot robes, and checked the time on his watch. 10 AM. He currently had a free period, which was why he had come here to calm his nerves by blowing up stuff, but he had only half an hour left before the session began. Though they had classes, the teachers had made special arrangements for him.

Soon, he found himself in front of Dumbledore’s floo, checking up his robes and brushing off imaginary flecks of dust. His hands were shaking from fear and anticipation, though Ron knew that it was also because he had neglected to drink the nerve healing potion after today’s session. Discreetly, when he knew that Albus, Ted, and Andromeda weren’t looking, he swallowed down a vial of the bitter, silver potion, doing his best to not choke on the taste.

“I hope you’re ready for the session, Ronald. I wish you the best of luck for it,” Dumbledore said, turning around to look at him.

“Eh, from what I heard, I basically just have to sit and listen to old men talk about cauldron thicknesses. It’s not like we get to talk about Voldemort’s return.”, he said nonchalantly, the tapping of his feet betraying his nerves.

All three adults chuckled. “Well, knowing you, you probably have something up your sleeve.”, Ted said, beaming at him happily, while Andromeda looked at him proudly.

“Apart from the claiming of the Prewitt Lordship, I don’t think there’ll be anything shocking.”, he answered, though they had hit the nail right on the spot. He _did_ want to address the elephant in the room, well actually, the multiple elephants in the room which the ministry was ignoring diligently.

“However, I doubt that I’ll be able to hold my tongue around Malfoy, Nott, Yaxley, and the other death eaters, the bastards,” he said, cursing their luck, and they didn’t even reprimand him for his language.

“Come on, Ron, we have to be there on time,” Andromeda said firmly, activating the floo.

“Why can’t we be there fashionably late?” he joked, rolling his eyes, but walked into the flames nevertheless, smiling at the chuckles of the other three who walked in with him.

“MINISTRY OF MAGIC!” he said, throwing the powder into the flames, and the now familiar feeling of flooing overtook him. But that didn’t stop the exceptionally strong bout of dizziness which smothered his senses when he tumbled into the other side.

As they walked through the atrium, Ron could feel the stares of people, no doubt wondering what someone as young as him was doing in Wizengamot robes, but now, instead of the nervousness he’d felt the last time, he only felt annoyance. Yes, he did enjoy being the center of attention, but these people were looking at him as if they had every right to judge him, which they didn’t. Only people he respected or cared for had that right.

In a few moments, Ron found himself staring at the entrance to the Wizengamot’s chambers. Ted and Andromeda were standing at his side, rubbing circles on his back, while Albus had already entered and was currently beginning the session.

“Relax Ron. There’s nothing to be worried about,” Andromeda said in a soothing tone, employing her inner healer.

“Hey Ron, if you get this perfectly, I’m getting you a tattoo,” Ted said out of nowhere, causing Ron to turn around and look at him with wide eyes.

“Wh – What?” he spluttered in surprise.

“Yes, a tattoo! Even I have one!” he said, smiling at him.

“Ted!” Andy whisper – scolded. “He’s just 15 years old! He can’t get a tatt-”

“Actually,” he interrupted Andromeda. “That’s a wonderful idea! I’ve always wanted an ear piercing, but a tattoo will be even better.”

Ted simply smiled brighter, while Andromeda glared at the two of them so icily that Hermione would have been proud. However, before the argument could escalate any further, a light lit on the door, signaling his entrance.

Andy quickly kissed him a good luck on his cheek, and Ted gave him a one - armed, manly hug. Ron took a deep breath, and entered the hall, doing his best to ignore the eyes focused on him. _calm down, Black You’ve gone over it a million times – control your expressions, don’t she weakness, and just ... be your typical snarky, sarcastic, plotting self._

When he opened his eyes, it was to a truly majestic sight. In front of him, lay a huge amphitheater of sorts. To his left, were the elevated seats of the Chief Warlock, Gawain Foxe, to whose left was the minister’s seat, slightly lower, and to his right, even lower than the minister, was none other than the toad. In the corner sat a scribe, diligently scribbling away the happenings of the meeting.

To Ron’s right, were tiers of chairs arranged in a crescent whose focus was on the podium at the center. _The higher the seats the more powerful the family,_ his mind supplied. Even though there were no physical barriers, it was clear that the further side was reserved for the dark families, where Lucius Malfoy, Cornelius Nott, and other death eater lords were staring at him calculatingly. Lord Greengrass too was staring at him, his face blank as always, though from what he knew about the man, he was probably wondering what Ron planned to pull off during the session.

The closer side was reserved for the light families like Abbot, Longbottom, and Shacklebolt (bald guy was staring at him).

And in the center, were the neutral families, looking insignificant when compared to the other two behemoths, comprising of families like Bones, Brocklehurst, and MacMillan. From the rafters of bystanders, Ron could make out Ted, Andromeda, and Albus, who was smiling at him, blue eyes twinkling.

“Lord Black, please come forth and accept your house seats.”, the chief warlock called from his seat.

Ron sent one last look towards Lucius Malfoy, and held his gaze for a few seconds. He once more felt the same, primordial anger boil within him at the sight of the blonde and now stepped forward, much more confidently.

_Time to give the death eaters a nice, harsh lesson._

************

Lucius Malfoy’s POV

The head of the Malfoy family, currently the highest ranking death eater, right after Bellatrix Lestrange, was staring intently at the entrance to the Wizengamot chamber from his seat at the head representative of the Dark faction. Though from the outside he presented a cool and collected façade, inside, his mind was running through a billion thoughts and possibilities, the two main ones being what would Ronald Black do here, and about the Dark Lord’s true heritage.

Despite having tried endlessly, he found himself unable to understand Ronald Black, who had just waltzed into the political scene of the country in the most dramatic way possible, and begun influencing people all over the country left, right and center, something which Lucius had had to work hard to negate the effects of. _Though, the oaf Fudge did a lot of my work for me._

He couldn’t understand why the Dark Lord had such an obsession with him, rivalling his obsession with Potter, though at least that one had had a reason. Black was, in the end, just a Blood Traitor who’d managed to make a few enrapturing speeches, and had hidden his magical skill until the day of the opening feast. Sure, he might have been dark, but Lucius seriously doubted the fact, because practicing dark magic right under Dumbledore nose was nigh on impossible.

_And yet, the dark lord began collecting his death eaters while he’d been at school._

Lost in his thoughts, he started slightly when the doors opened with a clang, and in walked the boy who had been the topic of discussion among him and several other pureblood lords; the enigmatic Ronald Black himself.

Lucius looked at the boy, examining him, and was surprised to see that he carried himself with confidence. He looked impressive and powerful as well, his eyes carried a calculating glint, and his body was well built. A dueler’s body.

As he looked around the room, clearly in awe, his eyes suddenly met the blonde’s, and Lucius Malfoy felt a shiver crawl up his spine at his eyes, which seemed …. odd. The young lord smiled predatorily at him, as if promising him that he would hunt Lucius down, before proceeding to the center of the room, where the ceremonial blue flame was burning bright.

“Lord Ronald Alphard Black – Tonks, please claim your house seats,” the chief warlock, a puppet of Fudge, who himself was a puppet of Lucius’s, intoned. Black nodded curtly before cutting his right hand with the jade dagger without any hesitation or even flinching at the pain, something which caused Lucius to raise an eyebrow.

Holding his hand above the fire and letting his blood drip into it, causing it to burn brighter for a second before it turned black, he began his oath.

“I, Ronald Alphard Black - Tonks, son of Andromeda Walburga Tonks nee Black, and Teddy Dilys Tonks, hereby claim the Black lordship seat, and align my house to the Neutral faction.”, he said. Immediately, murmurs of surprise broke out amongst the lords and ladies at his choice, the Neutral faction looking like it had seen a ghost.

Lucius himself was shocked. He had expected him to join the Light, believing that he was another of Dumbledore’s pawns, but here he was, joining the neutral, the weakest of the three factions. In fact, no houses had joined the neutral faction in the past several years.

Lucius watched as a chair with the Black crest appeared at the highest tier of the Neutral seats, signaling Ronald Black as the leader of that group.

Thank you, Lord Black. You may return to your seat,” Foxe said after a moment’s surprised pause.

“Oh, I have one more seat to claim, chief warlock,” Ronald said conversationally, before cutting his hand once more and holding it above the flames.

“I, Ronald Alphard Prewitt - Black - Tonks, son of Andromeda Walburga Tonks nee Black, and Teddy Dilys Tonks, hereby claim the Prewitt lordship seat, and align my house to the Neutral faction,” he said. The flames flared up once more, this time turning red and gold instead of black, proving that he was indeed the new Prewitt lord.

This time, the whispers were a lot more audible, and Lucius could see Ronald smirking at the crowd. The blonde himself was quite shocked at the child holding not one, but two powerful house seats, as this made him the most powerful person in the room, surpassing Lucius, the previous holder of the title. _Muriel must have made him the heir. This could cause quite a stir in the politics of Britain._

“Lord Prewitt – Black”, the chief warlock asked suddenly when Ronald had taken his seat, surrounded by joy – dizzy Neutral members.

“May I ask you, why you chose the Neutral faction, instead of the Dark or Light?”, he asked, blatantly ignoring protocol and tradition.

Black raised an eyebrow at the question, but answered nonetheless. “Well, Chief Warlock, even though it is against the rules to interrogate a lord or lady about their choice, I will still answer your question,” he said in a tone which made the chief warlock blush in embarrassment.

“I know, that a year ago, if I’d been in a similar position as I am in currently, I would have chosen the Light faction blindly without a moment’s hesitation, my choice built fully on _wrong beliefs_ about the dark faction,” he said, and Lucius found himself drawn into his words by both their content, and his sweet, enticing voice. _Hmmm, this is … intriguing._

“I grew up on the belief that all that the dark faction stands for is persecuting innocent muggleborns,” he said, sending a glance at Lucius, who could sense his fellow lords’ puff up in feigned hurt. _Listen, you fools! He said wrong belief!_

“However, after having spent over a month with the heirs of the Nott, Greengrass, and Zabini families, I learnt that the dark doesn’t stand for only killing muggles and muggleborns,” he said, drawing in his target audience, the dark faction.

“I actually found, that they also stand for preserving our traditions. Take for example, celebrating Samhain instead of Halloween. And I must admit, I agree with wanting to preserve tradition.”

“However, I asked myself, why can’t we just celebrate both Halloween and Samhain together, so both the muggleborns and the traditionalists are happy? And that led me to joining the Neutral faction, the only faction which truly wants peace and equality,” he said, sending an accusing verbal jab at over half the room.

“And then”, he continued in a lighter, more childish tone. “there was the obvious reason of Black being dark, and Prewitt being light. Dark plus Light equals Gray, meaning neutral,” he finished, before sitting on his seat with a smile, eliciting a few muffled chuckles from the lords and ladies. _He managed to both craft his words like a wandmaker does his wands, and use his childish innocence to soften the audience. Very Slytherin._

Lucius had to admit, the boy was nothing like what he had expected, and the younger Nott was doing his job well. Dumbledore was also watching the meeting, and it was clear that the blood traitor was no pawn of the old wizard, but instead made his own choices. However, that didn’t make him any less dangerous. _Will have to be careful with him._

Soon, the session was put into motion with a bang of Foxe’s gavel, and the chief financer came forth to explain the new budget for the ministry, something which, though extremely uninteresting, Lucius paid attention to. However, the next one was some Light Lord talking about the transport regulations, and Lucius spent this time concentrating on Ronald instead, who looked like he was sleeping.

Suddenly, Crabbe opened his mouth, and spoke before Lucius could tell him to stay quiet.

“Chief Warlock?” the obtuse lord called, smirking at the fact that Black now had his eyes completely closed. 

“Yes, Lord Crabbe?”

“I would like to express concern about Lord Prewitt – Black, who doesn’t seem to care about any of the proceedings of the meeting.”

Instantly, all eyes were drawn to the boy, who could now be heard snoring softly. There were a few chuckles amongst the dark lords. It took his fellow Neutral lords calling his name thrice, before he woke up with a start.

“Huh?”, he said, opening his eyes and looking around owlishly. “Lord Prewitt – Black, have you paid any attention to what has been going on in the meeting?”, Fudge asked, clearly trying to constrain a smirk.

“Oh, er – no.”, he admitted, surprising Lucius at both his response, and the speed with which he was up and speaking clearly. _Could it have been an act? Nah…_

“In fact,” he continued. “I stopped listening at the word ‘budget’!” he said, encouraging the laughter amongst the lords and audience. Lucius could almost feel the Tonkses and Dumbledore frowning at his comical behaviour.

“If you find the Wizengamot so boring, I believe you would do better in school, Mr. Black,” Umbridge said, smiling condescendingly at the child.

In an instant, Ronald’s face morphed into a predatory smirk, as if he had been waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on his prey, which had just walked into his open jaws. On the balcony, Dumbledore’s eyes sharpened and regained their twinkle as he stared intently at Ron.

“Madam Umbridge,” he said mockingly. “I believe that we are currently in the Wizengamot, and thus you ought to refer to me as Lord Prewitt – Black, not _mister_.”

At once, the entire room went silent, no one daring to chuckle in the face of his icy voice. Watching this, Ron continued with a small smirk.

“And Madam Umbridge, I do not find the Wizengamot itself boring, but I find the topics being discussed unimportant.”

“And what, may I ask, is a topic which suits your tastes, _Lord Black?_ ” she spat out as if the title were a bitter word.

Still maintaining his perfect, unnerving calm, Ron replied, “Subjects like the return of Lord Voldemort.”

The effect was immediate. Several people in the room gasped at the use of the name, the Dark Lords looked at him, trying to figure where he was going, Umbridge smiled in sick glee, and Fudge paled considerably.

“Lord Black! The dark lord is dead!” Umbridge said, louder than before, still smiling.

“Or is he?” He challenged openly, not caring about the glares being sent his way. Instead, he looked simply empowered by them, and was now standing in his seat.

“L – Lord Black, the dark lord was killed in 1981, and Harry Potter along with Albus Dumbledore were lying about He – who – must – not – be – named’s return.” insisted the chief warlock in a pathetic attempt to sound commanding.

“But what if he’s not? What if, I can prove to all of you, that the dark lord really is back!” he said, now raising his voice.

“Lord Black! You will sit down in your seat right now, and stop spreading blasphemy!” Umbridge nearly shrieked. In a flash, Ron’s eyes were on hers, his stare cold and unforgiving.

“Madam Umbridge”, he said icily, in a voice which promised pain for the listener. “How many times do I need to remind you that we’re in the Wizengamot, and not in school? And besides, as per rule, any Lord or Lady can bring forth any topic that they want, and it’s the duty if the Wizegamot members to shoot down their speech once it’s done. The Chief Warlock too, can only intervene once the speech is done,” he said, reciting from the rulebook.

The hall was quiet, as they chewed over what he had just said. Because yes, as per rule, he was allowed to present his opinions.

Finally, seeing no way out of this hole, Foxe banged his gavel, having come to a decision. “Then, Lord Black, you may present your opinion. Though I will ask you to not use the d - dark lord’s name here.”

“Thank you, my lord,” he said, bowing a bit as well for flattery, before walking down to where the podium was, facing the wizengamot members and audience.

“So,” he said, skipping the introductions. “As I promised, I would give your proof that the dark lord really is back, and so I will do good on it. Well then, let’s start at the beginning!”

“Firstly, was there ever an autopsy performed on Cedric Diggory’s body?” he asked directing the question towards the minister and his toad.

Umbridge visibly puffed up, before sneering at him. “Of course! In fact, the minister and I examined the body ourselves! Lord Black, I’m telling you, you are simply sprea – “However, she was interrupted by the red head chuckling.

Wiping false tears from his eyes, he looked to the minister. “Minister Fudge, you may be a lot of things, but I really don’t think you’re an auror,” he said. Fudge, being the idiot he was, puffed up at the praise, but the backhanded insult didn’t go unnoticed by the lords and ladies, who raised an eyebrow.

(Ron had learnt the art from his time in Slytherin, where he had been the victim of several of these, and wouldn’t have even noticed them had it not been for his friends)

“If an auror had examined the body, they would have found that Cedric was killed by a killing curse.”, he stated in a matter – of – fact voice.

Umbridge scoffed at him. “And why do you think we would believe this accusation without any evidence? Are you suggesting that we dig up Mr. Diggory’s grave?”

The expression on his face was one of true horror. “No! Absolutely not! That would be a severe insult to Cedric’s memory! I believe so, because Harry Potter said so,” he said simply.

Umbridge chuckled insultingly. “Are you really suggesting, that we believe the word of a liar, attention seeker, and a maybe deranged individual?”

Ignoring her, Ron turned to the minister. “Minister Fudge, remember when you met Potter in the leaky cauldron in the summer of 1993? Over there, I clearly remember you saying that you would always support him, and also praised him for being a kind and honest person. And yet, the moment he says something which might lead to trouble for your ministry, you turn your back on him. Why is that?”

Quickly, before anyone could interrupt, he continued his speech, once again turning to the crowd. “Harry Potter is not an attention seeker. In the summer of 1992, when a sane Gilderoy Lockhart pulled him next to him for a photo for the prophet, he looked like he’d rather be having detention from Snape, er – sorry, professor Snape.” causing a chuckle from Dumbledore.

“Harry Potter isn’t a liar either, and even when he had to lie about the smallest of things, he was horrible at it. Then why do you think, that he would chose just that moment to form such an intricate lie to garner fame of all things? I mean, he’s already pretty famous being the boy who lived and all. Wealth isn’t a problem either, having access to the Potter Vaults.”

“And he clearly isn’t insane either, as he wouldn’t have been able to pass 4 years in school without someone noticing in that case. And I can vouch for the above statements, having been one of his closest friends for 4 years.”

“So, are you not friends with Harry Potter anymore?” Selwyn asked out of nowhere, and Ron turned to him.

“No. After the third task, he told me that since the dark lord was back, he needed to have better friends, and I was holding him back. The Weasleys agreed with him as well, and that led to our parting of ways,” he said shortly, not wanting to talk too much on the matter, feeling his previous nervousness begin to creep in.

“Then why are you defending him?”, Selwyn continued, and Ron saw his chance.

“I’m not defending him,” he spat out. “I’m just stating the facts which I gathered over 4 years, since it might warn you about the trouble coming our way,” but before Selwyn could ask any more questions, he continued on with his words.

“Remember all that happened on the night of the third task?”, he questioned the crowd. “Once Potter came out of the maze with Cedric’s corpse and the cup in his other hand, he was dragged away by Alastor Moody for interrogation. However, Moody turned out to be Barty Crouch Junior, impersonating our auror.”

“Now, tell me, why do you think, that a death eater as insane as Bellatrix, would spend an entire year with several opportunities to kill Harry Potter, and yet do nothing?”

“Well, let me tell you why. When Potter came back, he simply popped into existence at the entrance of the maze, which proves that the cup was a portkey, something which was not a part of the tournament. Then, he had a cut into his left forearm, clearly with a knife, blood dripping from it, which suggests that he had his blood taken from him for some ritual as he had said.”, he said, and the crowd was now listening to his every word.

“So, that leads us to the answer of why Crouch did nothing the entire year. Because the dark lord wanted him alive for some ritual. Because, let’s see what the evidence suggests.”

“Harry Potter isn’t an exceptionally bright student in class, and yet, he managed to stay in the lead for the first two rounds. Why? Because he had Crouch helping him from the shadows!”

“Potter passed the first round by flying on his broomstick, and I was present with him when he got the idea. In fact, it was Crouch who gave him the idea, by suggesting that he was an excellent flyer, and he should play to his strengths. A bit of Legilimency might also have been involved.”

“The second round was passed because Potter discovered Gillyweed with Neville Longbottom’s help. Neville had received a book on aquatic plants, in which Gillyweed was mentioned. And who gave him the book? Crouch!”

“The maze was the most obvious one. It was clear that the dark lord only wanted Potter touching the portkey, which was why Krum and Delacour were eliminated with the Imperius and Cruciatus respectively. Potter said that when he was running towards the cup, he found Cedric fighting an abnormally aggressive blast – ended skrewt, suggesting angering charms or the imperius again. However, it didn’t work, as Cedric ended up in the graveyard as well, and fell victim to the Dark Lord’s death eaters.”

He let the information sink into their minds for a few moments, watching as they mulled it over, coming to conclusions, before starting again, this time in a stage whisper.

“Don’t you see a pattern here? Crouch was sent on a mission. Get Potter into the tournament – make him the first to enter the maze – ensure he’s the first to touch the cup – and then the dark lord shall kill him. Isn’t it obvious?”, he said almost disapprovingly.

When put this way, the crowd had no choice but to listen to logic. The evidence was compelling, but it still needed more.

“Lord Black … your evidence is compelling, but we need some more information.”, the chief warlock conceded, ignoring Fudge’s tantrum, because Bones’s glare looked way more threatening.

“Thank you, my lord, and yes, I have more evidence,” he said, smiling at the man gratefully, before turning to him.

“Lord Malfoy, could you show us your dark mark?”, he asked, tone not betraying any bitterness. Immediately, Lucius got up indignantly. The child was clearly very good at his game, and he couldn’t allow the dark lord’s return to become public.

“Is this once again some sort of prejudice against death eaters who’d been imperiused! Some long - winded plot to make us pay even more for things we did which we had no control over?” he demanded, causing his fellow lords to rise up as well.

Black, however, remained perfectly calm.

“No, Lord Malfoy!” he said apologetically. “I truly believe that you were imperiused, and you and your family have my condolences,” he said kindly, surprising all of the dark lords. Only Lucius caught the way he was gritting his teeth to prevent himself from doing something rash.

“In fact, I have heard all about your charities, and have even got to know your son, Draco, better, and he is a very good child, even after growing up without knowing his true father, and instead knowing only You – know – who’s mind controlled version.”

“However,” he continued. “That does not change the fact that the gold from your coffers still aided the dark lord, albeit without your consent.”

“If you truly care about the country’s wellbeing,” he said, now addressing the light lords. “You would do all in your power to help stop the dark lord, and I’m afraid that that includes showing us your … scar.”

The boy had him in a fix, and he couldn’t choose any path without consequences. The light lords were looking at him suspiciously, and he had to choose quick. _Well played, Ronald Black, Well played._

He slowly drew up his left sleeve, doing his best to portray an image of guilt, and exposed his mark. _Why can’t it be masked or altered in any way?_ he asked for the thousandth time in his life.

There were several gasps across the room, and Ron gingerly took hold of his arm. Lucius fought the urge to flinch at being touched by a blood traitor.

“See, my Brothers and Sisters! The mark indeed is darker than before, showing that the dark lord is stronger, maybe even back to full strength!” he said loudly, egging his enraptured audience on.

“Lord Malfoy, how long has your mark been darkening?” he asked in a pitying voice, though his sneer was hidden from all others.

“For the p – past couple of weeks,” he said, deliberately stuttering.

“Thank you for your help, Lord Malfoy. And you once again have my condolences,” Black replied, no trace of hatred in his voice at all.

“So,” he said, much louder. “You’ve seen Lord Malfoy showing us his mark, despite his obvious discomfort with the memories it brings back, and so I’d like a round of applause for Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy!” and there was a round of stifled, almost reluctant applause, though _Weasley_ ’s mocking smile was the defining factor of the occasion.

Once the claps had stopped, he began again. “I have showed all of you so much proof, so much evidence. Isn’t that enough to at least try to prepare for the dark lord’s return?” he asked pleadingly to the crowd. And though there was quite a large number who were convinced, the number of sceptics was even higher.

Looking disapprovingly at the crowd, Ron suddenly cracked a devious smile. “So, you need more proof, yeah?” and there were a few nods from the lords and ladies. The minister and his toad’s pleas went unnoticed.

Ron’s eyes met Dumbledore’s, asking for permission, but in response got a look screaming at him to not go ahead with his plan. It would put him in indescribable danger, and Dumbledore just _wouldn’t_ let that happen.

Ron’s eyes narrowed at him, and he simply ignored his mentor’s pleading eyes. He obviously knew what he was doing, and the risks involved in angering someone like Voldemort who murdered ad tortured people for fun. And he was willing to go on ahead, as it would no doubt plant doubt in the death eaters’ minds. _It’s necessary for the greater good._

With a flick of his wand, the letter from Riddle which had been kept in his pocket was levitated and enlarged, the text now large enough for everyone to read.

“3 weeks ago, I received this letter, trying to seduce me with the dark arts, and inviting me to a very secret meeting. I received this letter from a certain lord Gaunt,” he said, and the lords and ladies blinked at him in confusion.

Lucius felt the blood begin to rapidly rush away from his face as he realized what Black was doing. He _knew_ that the Dark Lord sending a letter to the boy hadn’t been a good idea, but he’d just brushed off his concerns and gone ahead with his plan. _He’d become way too arrogant, and underestimated Black’s lack of self – preservation. He was a Gryffindor before this, and Potter’s friend at that as well. He’s bound to have no sense of self - preservation._

“You can all see the contents of the letter. Now, I was obviously suspicious of this Lord Gaunt, and so decided to do some research on it, which revealed the true identity of Lord Gaunt,” and he paused for dramatic effect.

“Lord Gaunt, is none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle. The boy who grew up to name himself Lord Voldemort,” and several people gasped at this, whether from shock or fear, no one could tell. Lucius himself had to blink a few times to ascertain whether he’d gotten the name right. _Riddle … no, that can’t be the dark lord’s name. That’s the name of a mudblood!_

“Long story short, the Dark Lord wanted to have me in his ranks because of my status as Lord Black, and sent me this letter, thinking that I would bend over for him like a coward,” he said, adding a mocking laugh at the end. “He forgot, that despite being a Slytherin now, I was a Gryffindor previously. And Gryffindors, have zero sense of self – preservation.”

Amelia Bones was the first to regain her composure. “Lord Prewitt Black”, she said in a full business tone. “Could you give us the details about the dark lord’s past and your entire story?”

Ron smiled at her, knowing that she would want to take vengeance on the man who’d murdered her entire family. “Of course, Madam Bones. The Gaunts are direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, something which explains the parseltongue. However, the squandered their wealth and status from centuries of inbreeding, which led to them also being a bit insane … or completely loony, as in the case of our resident Dark Lord.”

“The last Gaunts were Marvolo, and his children Merope and Morfin Gaunt who lived in the muggle village of Little Hangelton, which coincidentally is also a village with a large graveyard, where ‘strange occurrences’ took place before this summer. Marvolo and Morfin were taken to Azkaban for killing some muggles, and while they were away, Merope, a squib, ran away and disappeared. Since the two males couldn’t have had children in Azkaban, this leaves us with Merope as the last person who could have had a child.”

“Oh, and around the time Merope ran away, there were also reports of a very handsome muggle lad called Tom Riddle. Eloping with the village tramp’s daughter, only to return 6 months later, having no idea what overcame him. Clear use of love potions. Isn’t it ironic that the son of a muggle and a squib is the one who led several purebloods to strive for a pureblood supremacist world?”, he finished, openly mocking the dark lord in front of an astounded audience.

Lucius, along with several of his fellow lords, felt like someone had punched them in the gut. The boy had just given them nearly irrefutable evidence about his heritage, and despite being the heir of Slytherin, the dark lord was … a filthy half blood. Even worse, the son of a muggle and a squib who had been conceived under a love potion.

And all of them had been following him blindly, putting their necks on the line, for several years. They had followed a _half blood,_ in a quest for a pureblood world. _Merlin, how could I have been so careless?_

Had his father, Abraxas, not even once wondered about the heritage of Lord Voldemort before joining him? Had no one, not even one person, ever even _thought_ about looking into Voldemort’s past, to _see_ if he was legitimate? And how could he himself have never, even once asked himself that same question?

He had the answer almost immediately: Fear. No one had dared to question his past, because all of them feared what the dark lord would do to them if he didn’t appreciate their forays into his past, because Voldemort was always the first to say that he was a pureblood wizard, and the heir of Slytherin at that. If someone were to discover the truth … then their lord would have hunted them down, before leaving them in a state worse than that which the Longbottoms were in currently.

And Ronald Black, had just ripped apart all the lies which the entire country had been fed for decades, and now, he would surely be the primary target of Voldemort. However, Black had clearly achieved his goal, which was to spread doubt amongst the death eaters, as the expressions of his fellow death eaters proved.

Lucius Malfoy, for once, had absolutely no idea on what to do or think.

At last, none other than the toad broke the silence with a disgusting, mocking laugh. “Lord Prewitt – Black, do you actually think that we’ll believe all of this – this hodgepodge you call evidence? To me, it looks like the letter you showed us is nothing more than a silly, contrived prank, or a prop in some sort of campaign against the dark aligned lords like Lord Malfoy. And besides, in the impossible scenario that the dark lord is back, and sent _you_ a letter, surely he would have placed unbreakable hexes and security charms around it?”

_Huh, she does have a point. Tom really is way too arrogant for his own good sometimes. No wonder he couldn’t kill Potter despite trying for … four times. Though, pity that I’m in no mood to agree with the toad._

Ron simply cocked an eyebrow, as if to say, _seriously?_ before tapping his head with his wand, silently disillusioning himself (though in reality he hissed out the incantation in parseltongue), causing several eyes to widen across the room.

Removing the disillusionment charm, he performed the multi shield spell, and there were a few gasps as several black shields popped into existence and began flying around the room in an impressive display.

With a flick of his wand, Ron removed the shields and turned to the audience, who were gaping at his showcase. “I guess that answers the question of my magical capability,” before turning to Lucius Malfoy and looking at him with a perfect deadpan.

“And about my obsession with Lord Malfoy, well …. I’ve always had a thing for blondes, you know,” he commented easily, and even colored his cheeks a light shade of pink with an imperceptible flick of his wands, prompting open laughter from a lot of the people in the room at Lucius shocked expression.

“Lord Prewitt Black!” the chief warlock reprimanded, though he too was smiling.

“Sorry, my lord. Couldn’t control myself,” he apologized honestly, grinning sheepishly at Foxe. “About Lord Malfoy, I had no intent of targeting him. he just seemed to turn up at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He continued. “About the letter being a prank, all of us know that you can’t lie about your lordship on parchment, as magic itself forbids it.”

However, at this, Corban Yaxley cleared his throat and got up in his seat. _Corban, I beg of you to put that mind of yours to some use now._ “Lord Prewitt – Black, ministry, and esteemed lords and ladies, I take full responsibility for the letter.”

Seeing Ron’s confused look, he bowed to him apologetically, though it was clear to Lucius that the act disgusted him. “My youngest daughter, Sidra, is a prankster at heart, and she managed to find a loophole around the rule, though I have no idea how. You once again have my most sincere apologies, Lord Prewitt – Black, for the inconvenienced she no doubt caused,” he said, before sitting down.

Ron was taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t anticipated this. _Fucking pureblood lords, should have known that they were craftier than they look_. “Oh, in that case, I accept your apology, Lord Yaxley,” he said with forced forgiveness in his tone, and had to clench his fists to stop them from clocking the smug death eater.

What irked him even more was the way in which a lot of his audience, who seconds ago had been enraptured by his words, had sighed in relief at his words, no doubt too cowardly to face the facts. Only a few members of the neutral and light faction, Amelia Bones, and Rufus Scrimgeour actually looked like they believed him.

“Though, I would have thought that you would have sent me a letter of apology earlier,” he said, desperate to discredit him.

Yaxley smiled icily at the boy. _He is a good and dangerous speaker, but he has nowhere near our experience in dodging political bullets_. “That’s because I myself learned of it just this morning. In fact, if you wish for it, I shall send you a letter describing how she did it, though I suspect house elves,” he lied seamlessly.

Ron nodded ‘courteously’ towards the death eater. “Thank you, lord Yaxley, and yes, I would like to learn of how she did it.”

And with that, he turned to Umbridge, giving her a cold smile. “And Madam Umbridge.”, he said, loud enough to garner everyone’s attention.

“You’re right, you know. I honestly don’t expect any of you to believe me, as when you look at it critically, my evidence is quite a mess, but it is the truth nonetheless,” ignoring her surprised spluttering, he turned to the minister, who had shrunk into himself and puffed up several times during the session.

“Minister Fudge, it’s all your choice on whether to believe me or not. My role was to bring the truth to light, and I did it to the best of my abilities. Minister, I know that you want to be remembered as the man who was responsible for 13 years of peace in magical Britain, however, now there’s a very sinister force at our doorstep which could break this peace that you’ve diligently maintained for all this time.”

Turning to the crowd, he started again, in a much stronger voice, like a call to arms in a war. “Even if! Even if there was the slightest chance that Lord Voldemort is indeed back, it would put millions of lives at risk, and if you, minister Fudge, ignore this threat and the news comes out on Voldemort’s terms, then you’ll be remembered as the man who let the dark lord ascend to power. On the other hand, if you take action on this threat, you will be glorified in the history books as the one who managed to stop the dark lord in his tracks, and it is pretty obvious to me which one I would prefer,” he said, honing in on the man’s over inflated ego. It worked as well, seeing that he was considering his words for the first time.

 _Pity that it probably won’t work, seeing that Umbridge is quite possibly shagging him, and Malfoy is stroking his balls,_ he thought.

Ron had expected it, but that didn’t change the fact, that when _not a single bloody Lord or Lady,_ as much as gave him a smile, it cut deep. _Come on, not even one?_ However, it was then that he noticed Madam Bones smiling at him, beckoning at him to go on, and the sight made his eyes regain the determination which they’d lost for the past few moments. _Fuck you guys, the head of DMLE is on my side, and that’s all I need!_

“But my lords and ladies! The show’s not over yet! There’s still one more topic left to address,” he called out, and he smirked at their gobsmacked looks.

 _Yeah, I have a LOT more to talk about, because this country is currently going to shite, and that is something I don’t want to happen._ “The second topic that I would like to address today, is the daily prophet and Rita Skeeter.”

At once, murmurs broke out among the crowd, a lot of the women glaring at him, and Ron had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “The issue I want to bring to light, is the daily prophet’s habit of not really doing journalism. Instead, all it seems to be doing is spread lies, blasphemy, and follow the lives of celebrities.”

“Lady Longbottom, Lady Abbot, Lord Malfoy, and Lady Bones, and Lord Brocklehurst.”, he burst out suddenly, turning to the people he had addressed. “All of you, have children, grandchildren, nephews, or nieces studying in Hogwarts in my own year. I am positive, that they send you letters reporting the going ons at school, am I right?”

The addressed people nodded in agreement, though Lord Malfoy did so a bit reluctantly. “Well, in that case, I’m sure all of you are aware of what happened on the first two breakfasts at school,” and once again, there were murmurs of agreement.

“For those who do not know,” he said, turning to the oblivious lords and ladies. “On the first morning at Hogwarts, Rita Skeeter released a very deprecative article regarding me, saying that I was a dangerous and dark wizard, that I was the one to open the chamber of secrets in 1992, and that I attempted to murder my sister! Blasphemous!” he said voice laced with scorn.

“And so, to prove my innocence, in front of the entire population of Hogwarts, I narrated the truth about the events under a blood oath. Am I right?” he asked the standing lords and ladies.

“Yes, my fellow lords and ladies, he speaks the truth. My Grandson told me about him in his letter home,” Augusta Longbottom informed the assembled crowd, and Ron ‘s eyes widened at her outspokenness. _Huh, didn’t know I had another ally._

“And yet, the prophet did not publish this!” he said, hitting the podium with his fist, in a genuinely pissed off voice, a voice inciting rebellion. “The moment I spoke out against Rita Skeeter’s blasphemy, she, the prophet, and the ministry, go on ahead to silence me! Why is that so?” he asked, calling to the minister, who remained silent.

“Instead of reporting the _truth_ , the Prophet went on ahead to report my interactions with the goblin nation, accusing them of being _treacherous, lying, creatures_. Now, tell me, how is that not bigotry and discrimination on the basis of race?” he asked hotly.

“Lord Prewitt – Black, the goblins are a dangerous race, as you would know if you paid attention in history,” Umbridge chuckled, a sound that grated on Ron’s nerves.

He smiled at the entire crowd before replying. “Are you sure about that, Madam Umbridge?” he challenged, before turning to the crowd once more, who were growing skeptical of him.

“I ask you the simple question of who wrote the history of the goblin rebellions? Yes, we wizards were the ones to write about the goblin rebellions. And it is obvious, that when the winners of a conflict write a story, the losing side is portrayed in the worst manner possible, while the winners are portrayed as heroic, selfless, gods. But … have any of you ever tried to look at the rebellions from a goblin’s perspective?”

“I ask you,” he said, raising his voice. “Have any of you, ever shown even the least bit of respect to the goblins, or even tried to?” he demanded.

“Lord Black, we’ve already made it clear that _Goblins are dangerous!_ ”, shrieked Umbridge, but Ron noticed the guilty looks on several of their faces. They were listening at least, which meant that the proverbial knife was ready.

“Ah… this is what I mean by bigotry,” he said, sending a pointed look at Umbridge. “Well, let me tell you something. When I visited Gringotts, I showed the goblins common courtesy and respect, and do you know what they gave me in return?”

He smirked before raising his right arm and closing his eyes, calling forth Christmas. With a pop, the Morningstar appeared in his hand, inciting several gasps from the crowd.

Swinging it around lazily (he’d gotten a bit of practice in with it), he addressed the crowd. “This is an ancient, goblin made Morningstar, constructed from the strongest material on the planet, which the goblin nation gifted me for respecting their traditions. Along with it, they also offered me the goblin nation’s eternal allegiance to House Black. And all I did was respect them and their traditions by returning all Goblin – made items within the Black Vaults.”

With that, he laid the weapon in front of the minister, who was in too much shock to even speak, before turning to his audience. “See? All I did was respect their traditions, treat them like _equals,_ and now I have their eternal allegiance. Not to mention, Silverknuckle; the first Goblin I ever met, is now a good friend of mine.”

“Now, tell me, do you think that the goblins deserve to be treated as less than equal? Because, you see, the goblins were a cornered, scared race after the goblin rebellion, which was why they lash out and treat us wizards bitterly. This leads to a never - ending cycle of crimes which does nothing but harm both involved parties.”

“Oh, and Madam Umbridge, before you accuse me of using wandless conjuration, no, I’m nowhere near that level of skill. The gift is tapped into my blood, and I can summon it to me at will, like this.”, he said, summoning Christmas to his hand, before vanishing it again.

“So, there you go! I just showed you that with a little bit of respect and equality between the goblins and wizards, we can have peace, and I also showed you that the daily prophet never prints the truth. In fact – “, he said, turning to the minister once more.

“I’m pretty sure, that unless I raised the topic of the daily prophet and Rita Skeeter, all the words I spoke today wouldn’t even be mentioned in tomorrow’s newspapers, am I right, minister?” he asked, smiling darkly at both him, and the scribe who was openly gawking at him.

“My fellow esteemed lord and ladies, you’ve all heard my words,” he said, now walking across the stage. “You’ve seen my display. And I’ve shown you the evidence. So now, I ask you, let the daily prophet print the _truth_ , as is the true objective of journalism. Because magical Britain deserves to know the proceedings of the country which could directly affect them. I _beg_ you, please, please let the words I said today reach the ears of the people,” he said, now truly sounding as if he wanted the better of the country. _The lessons with Andy sure are helping today._

Suddenly, he put his wand to his forehead, and slowly extracted the memory of the entire meeting, and stored it into a vial which was present in his robes. Once more, he pressed his wand to his temple, and this time extracted the memory of his meeting with the goblins, and levitated the two vials for everyone to see.

“These are the pensieve memories of my interaction with the goblins, and the proceedings of today’s meeting, and you can’t say that these were memory charmed as the proof is in front of you.” With a quick gemino, he made several copies of each vial and floated them towards the intended recipients.

“I am handing one copy of each memory to these people, and you are free to do whatever you want with them. I can only hope that you help the nation to know the truth, that we help reduce discrimination amongst our country, and that the prophet prints the truth as well. Because, you see, in the end, I’m just a person who wants the truth to prevail, someone who wants the betterment of magical Britain.”

“Thank you, respected lords and ladies, chief warlock, minister, and senior undersecretary to the minister.”, he said, bowing low, before walking up to his seat. This time, there was applause, soft and scattered, but it was enough for him as it was the ones who mattered who were clapping for him. He wouldn’t deny that the silence of the other cut deep, almost like they were screaming at him that he wasn’t good enough to convince them, but he cut them off, instead focusing on the ones who were clapping.

Everything had mostly gone to plan, and this would surely strengthen his ties with the goblin nation. not to mention, make him a celebrity in his own right. It would also be a huge blow to Voldemort.

And to think all of this damage was done because a Crabbe’s father, who was as stupid as his son, couldn’t stop himself from insulting a blood – traitor!

****************

Ronald Black’s POV

“Lord Prewitt – Black, you have to join us for tea today!” Lord Brocklehurst invited him as he and his faction were leaving the hall. Ron turned around, a surprised expression on his features.

“Er – I’m sorry, Lord Brocklehurst, but I’m busy today. Oh, and please call me Ron outside the wizengamot,” he replied, sheepishly.

“Lord Black,” a voice suddenly sounded from somewhere behind him, and Ron turned around to face Madam Bones, peering at him through her monocle. “It is tradition for the faction members to meet up after a wizengamot session to discuss affairs.”

Ron had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Leaning in theatrically, he whispered to his fellow lords and ladies. “Actually, I have something very important to do right now. If you could hold the meeting in around …. 3 more hours, then I can attend it.”

“And what, may I ask, is so important to you?”, Amelia Bones asked a bit suspiciously.

“Oh, Ted promised me that if I perform well in the wizengamot then he would get me a tattoo, and I’m sure that I deserve an extra magnificent one,” he replied, eliciting a few chuckles from the audience. However, Madam Bones looked at him critically.

“So, did you only give that wonderful performance in the wizengamot for something as mundane as a tattoo?”

“Oh no!”, Ron replied, eyes wide in surprise. “I actually meant all that I said, and everything was truth. I, well … in the end, I am a 15 – year – old teenager. I’ve been preparing this for quite a while, but Ted popped the deal about getting a tattoo on me five minutes before the session. And who am I to disagree to such an amazing offer?” he explained, and the stern witch nodded.

“Lord Black, could you show me the multi shield spell you did there? It could save a lot of aurors,” Madam Bones requested, and Ron was glad to accept.

“Oh, why not! However, I have conditions,” he said, and Bones raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“First, I don’t want this spell leaking to the public or anyone other than the aurors and unspeakables, as it really helps me maintain my position of the best student dueler in Hogwarts. And secondly, I want you and Rufus Scrimgeour to increase security in your homes, as Voldemort will no doubt try to assassinate you,” he said, and Madam Bones raised an eyebrow at his conditions but accepted nonetheless. Previously, she too hadn’t believed that the dark lord had returned …. but the evidence this one child, if she could call him that, had provided was quite compelling.

“Deal,” she agreed, extending a hand which Ron shook firmly.

Quickly, Amelia took him to an empty room, and Ron showed her the spell and its details as she looked on in awe. “Merlin …. thank you, Lord Black. Your help will truly be appreciated by the auror department,” she said, and Ron didn’t even bother to try and correct how she addressed him. She just looked like the sort of person who’d always stick to rules and formalities.

Just as they were exiting the room, Albus, Ted, and Andromeda appeared behind him, wearing identical worried frowns. “Ron, why didn’t you tell us that ruddy _you – know – who_ sent you a letter? And why did you have to reveal it to everyone?”

“You have put yourself in grave danger, you do know that right, Ron? What were you thinking?”, demanded Andy.

Ron scowled at them. Did they really think that he’d jumped in without a second thought, or that he could get attacked at Hogwarts? _Well, to be frank, I did give it minimal thought, before deciding to expose Tom._ “I knew what I was doing, alright?” he snapped. “This is war, and unless we do dangerous things, Voldemort’s going to win. If putting myself in danger is needed to achieve the goal, then it’s worth it.”

Albus simply shook his head, a strange expression on his face. “No Ronald, my boy, it’s not worth it. You must understand that your life, your safety and wellbeing, matter a lot to not only us, but several people.”

Ron really had no idea how to respond to that.

And so, he simply shrugged noncommittally, before changing the topic. “You know what, I really don’t want to talk about … this, right now. Can we please talk about this some other time, maybe after I, er – go and talk to the people who’ll no doubt be threats to me?” he said, nodding towards where the dark aligned lords were huddled together, occasionally sending angry glances at him.

Without waiting for a response, with his wand at the ready, he walked towards Lucius Malfoy, who didn’t notice his approach. “Good Afternoon, fellow lords!” he greeted cheerfully, causing them to jump, before turning to sneer at him. only Lucius maintained a calm expression. Seeing his face, calm as always, his aristocratic nose turned up at him, he had to fight the urge to break it as payback for what he had done to his sister. _Sometimes, the best way to teach someone a lesson is with a nice punch in the face. And maybe a kick in the nuts as well._

“Good afternoon, lord Prewitt – Black,” he greeted carefully, and Ron decided it would be fun to play with him a bit more.

“Oh, please call me Ron outside the Wizengamot. Lord makes me sound old.” he said ‘happily’.

“In that case … please call me Lucius as well,” he said, still stepping on eggshells around him. Lucius had found out the hard way that going against Ronald Black was like fighting Bellatrix; both were utterly unpredictable. Well, both were also Blacks, a family with a decided bit of madness in them.

“What brings you here …. Ron?”

“Oh, I just wanted to remind you that your _precious dark lord_ is nothing more than a filthy Half Blood, and I gave you proof as well,” he said flippantly, and could hear Crabbe and Goyle growl like dogs. _Huh, would you look at that? Crabbe and Goyle’s dads are Malfoy’s lapdogs, have brains the size of peas, and look like baboons’ backsides! Must be some sort of family curse._

“He may be a half blood, but he is still a very powerful wizard,” Lucius bit out through gritted teeth, trying to calm himself down.

To his surprise, Ron cocked an eyebrow at that. Once more, he extracted a vial of memories and handed it to the blonde, before leaning in to whisper in a dangerous voice. “This contains vials of memories displaying my _own_ power, and I don’t want _anyone_ other than Voldemort and his lackeys seeing this. And if you do … well, Draco _does_ sleep the next dorm room,” he threatened in a voice which sent prickles of fear down his spine.

“Lucius … if I were you, I’d be careful. Voldemort’s getting old, and so I believe it’s time for you to follow the real purebloods.”, he whispered one last time before turning and walking away, leaving a slightly shaking Lucius in his wake.

Smirking at how he’d left the man who’d hurt his sister, shaking like a leaf in the wind, he sent one last look at the rest of the death eaters before walking back to where Albus was waiting for him along with Ted and Andy.

“What did you tell them, Ron?” asked Andy slowly, and Ron shrugged with a small smile.

“Told them to be careful with whom they follow,” he replied nonchalantly. “As to why he’s shaking, I told him that I can do things to him which are much worse and painful than what he did to my sister.”

Ted and Albus looked at him, aghast at how he’d pretty much given the man a death threat, while Andy smirked at him. “Ronald … you can’t go around threatening to torture people, even if they might be our enemies. You can’t stoop down to the level of Tom.”

For some reason, those words seemed to spark something in Ron, but he shrugged off the weird feeling. “Well, in my opinion, what he did was exactly what Lucius Malfoy deserved, even though I don’t know what happened to Ginny,” said Andy with a vicious grin, which Ron returned. Meanwhile, Dumbledore sent him a wary look, which Ron didn’t notice.

“So, Ted,” said Ron as they strolled towards the edge of the anti apparation wards around the Wizengamot chambers. “Am I still getting that tattoo? After all, I do think that my … performance during the meeting was more than satisfactory.”

Ted opened his mouth, clearly to refuse his request, but Andy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Though I don’t approve of you getting a tattoo, or even going to diagon alley after all the ruckus you’ve caused today, I know you well enough to know that if we refused your wishes, you’d sneak into Diagon and get yourself a tattoo – “

“Right – O!”

“Which is why, It’ll be better for Ted and I to take you along so that we can keep an eye on you as well.”

“Thank you!” said Ron, a beam lighting up his face, and even Albus couldn’t stop the small smile which broke past his worried façade.

A few feet away, Lucius Malfoy watched the entire scene, wondering how the same boy who’d just threatened his son’s life a few moments ago, given the most dramatic speech in Wizengamot history, could be so … _normal_. _Either his childlike attitude is genuine right now, he has mental disorder, or he’s an excellent actor._

 _Merlin …_ he shivered at the memory of those terrible eyes boring into his soul. _We might just have a new Dark Lord on the horizon._

**************

Diagon Alley had been interesting, a lot of people openly staring at him. Ted, Andy and he had had a brief lunch of fish and chips (Albus had to leave for Hogwarts), before they made their way to the tattoo parlor.

The wizard who owned the store stared at him for a few seconds, before finally showing him the catalogue, and Ron had been very confused. He had had three main choices – a phoenix, a dragon, and a runespoor, which was basically a snake with three heads. Very intimidating, cunning, and also a strategist, from what Ted had told him. How a magical creature could be a strategist completely escaped him, but then again, sphinxes and blast ended skrewts did exist. If those things could exist, a strategic snake wasn’t too big of a deal.

He had initially wanted to choose the phoenix, signaling his rebirth from the proverbial ashes Potter, Granger, and the Weasleys had left behind, but something in his mind told him that he would be having a lot of interactions with Phoenixes later on. The shopkeeper had also suggested the runespoor, as it looked way more intimidating, powerful, and …. darker, something which Ron most definitely was.

So, in the end, he’d agreed to the three – headed serpent, and Merlin did the process hurt. Though the man had put him under sedatives, the moments in between were so painful that he only stopped himself from screaming by biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

However, it had all been worth it, as when he got up from his seat and checked out the markings on his back, it was a truly majestic sight. The jet black against his normally pale skin proved to be startling contrast. The tail of the beast ended at his navel, and coiled twice around his stomach and chest; the scales looking almost lifelike, before it split into three heads about a handspan from the base of his neck.

One head descended to the area between his left shoulder muscle and left breast muscle, and the other on the right side. The middle head came down from the right side of his neck, and came down to the center of his chest, right on the sternum. Each head was intricately detailed, the fangs clearly visible, and Ron gaped at it for an entire minute in awe. Oh, and he could make the tattoo move around on his skin with just a thought, and the show of fangs was pretty scary.

Merlin, this tattoo was much cooler than all his battle scars combined. Though … now, he didn’t think his chest looked half as intimidating as before. Just a few weeks ago, he’d received an especially nasty burn across his chest, which just looked _ugly_ , leading to him beginning to wear his shirt again.

However, he was currently wondering if it had been worth it, seeing that his entire upper body was sore from simply walking to the fireplace of the leaky cauldron, despite Ted and Andy’s help. “You know, you can leave me now. Don’t you guys have, dunno, homework to correct or something?” he said with a strained grin as he sat down on one of the chairs.

“I told you, getting a tattoo wasn’t a good idea. And you’re lucky, I still remember how Ted couldn’t even move a muscle for hours after he got his one,” Andy told him as Ted paid Tom for the floo powder in the background.

“You were there when Ted got his tattoo?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Since fifth - year.”

Ron shook his head with a small smile. “No wonder the two of you just seem so … in sync all the time.”

Just then, Ted came back to them and handed him the floo powder, and one of the painkillers which he had bought from the apothecary. “We need to go back to Hogwarts now, Andy. We totally forgot about the meeting we’d arranged with Snape to collect potions ingredients from the forest!”

Her eyes widened as she remembered, and Ron could have sworn that she cursed under her breath before turning to him with an apologetic look. “Don’t worry,” he said, waving their worries off. “I’ll be alright. It’s just Bones Manor, y’know. Now, you’d better reach there on time before Snape uses _you_ for potions ingredients”

“Take care and please don’t get into trouble, alright?” Andy said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before she walked into fireplace with Ted. Grunting, Ron got up and flung the powder into the flames before walking into them. With a loud and clear ‘Bones Manor’, the world turned around him before the fires deposited him on the marble floor of Amelia Bones’s family home.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, and the pain in his back spiked, causing him to arch his back while holding back the acidic liquid which surged up his throat.

Hastily, he gulped down the painkiller, and instantly, the pain became a dull sensation in the background. Just for safety, he also swallowed an anti – nausea potion, and was as good as new in a few seconds.

Problem? He would be perceived as sleepy and a tad drunk the entire meeting. And after an hour, he would have a massive hangover. Why couldn’t magic just be simple?

Slowly, he picked himself up and carried his body to where the meeting room was, doing his best to ignore the very enticing sofa in the greeting hall.

“Ronald?” a voice suddenly called from somewhere to his left, and he felt a hand steady him from behind. He turned to his side to see Amelia Bones looking at him worriedly.

“Madam Bones, could I ….. take a short nap?” he requested. The spinning was getting worse.

“Why? And pray tell me why you look like you’re drunk?”

“Painkillers,” he replied curtly, and saw Madam Bones nod quickly, before she wandlessly conjured up a bed, on which Ron quickly laid down. He was asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow, and didn’t see or hear Madam Bones assign an elf to take care of him and ensure that he woke up within 45 minutes when the other lords arrived. 

*************

Ron woke up feeling much better and lighter, to the feeling of small hands prodding him, and a tiny voice calling, “Master Black! Wake up!” Blinking rapidly to clear the sleepiness, he looked to his left to see a tiny elf pushing him cautiously in order to wake him up.

 _Where am I?_ he thought groggily, when it all suddenly came flooding to his mind. The wizengamot meeting. The silence. Toying with Malfoy. Teaching the spell. The tattoo. The dizzy bout.

“Merlin!” he exclaimed, quickly getting up in order to reach the place of the meeting. It was only when the covers slipped off his chest that he realized that he was also shirtless under the covers, causing him to blush in embarrassment. _Let’s just hope that no one saw that._

He quickly examined his skin, and was glad to see that the soreness and swelling had been alleviated, the tattoo looking perfect now. He looked to the elf, who looked ready to punish herself. “Er – what’s your name?” he asked.

“B - Blinky, Master Black,” she replied, cowering a bit in fear.

“Blinky,” he said, trying his best to sound kind. “Could you give me my shirt and then take me to the meeting room?”

The elf nodded eagerly, and with a pop of her fingers, he found himself clothed. _Damn, elf magic sure is powerful._ She offered him her hand, which he took, and a soft pop later, he found himself in the meeting room where the neutral lords and ladies were preparing tea.

“Ah! I see you’re up and running again, Ronald,” Amelia Bones greeted cheerfully. Ron grinned sheepishly at her.

“Er – thank you for taking care of me, Madam Bones, and you too, Blinky”, he said, and the elf blushed before apparating away again. “Now, have I missed anything?”

“No. In fact, we were waiting for you to arrive, Ronald.”, Lady abbot said from where she was pouring Lord Brocklehurst a cup of tea.

“Thank you then.”, he said, briskly taking a seat between Lady Bones and Lord Brocklehurst. Lady Abbot pushed a cup of tea towards him, but Ron didn’t touch it.

“So, I guess we shall begin the meeting. And the first thing, Ronald is etiquette. If a lady offers you a cup of tea, you should accept it and take a small sip immediately,” she explained rapidly, and Ron blinked at her in confusion. Slowly, he took up the cup, and took an imperceptible sip, and Lord Macmillan nodded

“The second thing, is that while we’re meeting here, all of us shall refer to the other by first names. I am Tiberius,” Lord Macmillan stated, his blonde mustache moving up and down slightly.

“Miranda for me,” said Lady Abbot.

“Amelia,” informed Madam Bones, short and to the point as usual.

“Seth,” informed Lord Brocklehurst.

“Artyom,” said Lord Shafiq, and Ron nodded, still trying to memorize their names.

An awkward silence prevailed for a few moments, and Ron broke it. “Er – why are you teaching me all this anyway?”

“Guess I just take pleasure in teaching,” Lord Brocklehurst admitted, looking at him calculatingly. “Never really had kids of my own, so I’m kind of replacing them with you. Not to mention, you’re currently our faction leader and knowing these things is a must.”

“So, what else are you going to teach me?”

“Well,” said Artyom. “It’s pretty clear that you don’t need much training in politics, and I can’t say that I know too much about etiquette. So, tell us what you’re doing in school currently? Any hobbies?”

“Hmmm…school is going alright. Spending a lot of time in detention with Umbridge, and even more practicing dueling and Arithmancy. In fact, Arithmancy might just be my favorite subject.”

“And hobbies?”, asked Amelia.

“Apart from dueling, I do play a lot of chess,” he admitted, and Tiberius raised an eyebrow. “Care for a game sometime later?” he asked, and Ron smirked at him.

“Of course! But I will warn you, don’t cry when I win,” and there were a few chuckles among the other lords and ladies.

“Ooh, sass. I like it!” joked Tiberius, and even Ron chuckled.

“However, you’d better know that Tiberius is the best chess player I’ve met in my entire life,” Miranda warned.

“Oh, a lot of people have said that to me as well, including a certain Clara Martyris whom I met,” and Tiberius smiled at him.

“The previous champion of the national tournament? Nice!”

“So, Ronald, before you both start playing right here, could you show us your tattoo?” she asked with a smirk, and Ron’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ll tell you, Amelia, though very stern from the outside, on the inside is one mean gossip,” she commented flippantly, and Ron was astonished to see the monocled woman actually blush.

“Well, if you want it so much,” he sighed dramatically before taking a few steps back, turning around, and pulling his shirt above his shoulders. There were quite a few wide eyes at that, and Tiberius even whistled.

Ron smirked, before hissing at his snakes to move around a bit, which they did, surprising his audience at the display. “Amazing,” commented Artyom, and Ron felt his ears begin to glow at the praise, as it always happened, and quickly put on his shirt again.

“So,” Seth chuckled. “It's clear that you are, what do today's kids say? Ah, _hot stuff._ In that case, I'm sure you have a girlfriend, Ronald? A beautiful future Lady Prewitt – Black?”, he asked out of the blue, and Ron nearly choked on the tea he had been sipping to hide his blush.

Dating? Surprisingly, the thought of a girlfriend hadn’t crossed his mind even once over the past 3 months, as he had been too intent on trying to better himself. He might have even developed an aversion to ever fancying anyone again after what Hermione had done to him.

“Erm – no, I never really thought about dating in the past 3 months,” he mumbled, hoping to get them off the topic.

Multiple sets of eyebrows raised simultaneously, and Madam Bones was the first to speak. “Well then, you should start looking for an intelligent, beautiful future lady as soon as possible! My Susan is quite a pretty one, kind, and has got a good head between her shoulders as well. She also has fiery red hair, just like your sister,” she said in a completely nonchalant manner as if she couldn’t try to be any less obvious about setting him up with Susan.

“Oh, please!” scoffed Seth. “He needs someone intelligent to help him maintain the Prewitt and Black lordship and status. My Mandy is in the top 5 percent of her class, and she’s just as good, if not better looking than Susan!”

“Actually,” intercepted Miranda. “I believe Hannah would be a better match for Ron. She’s intelligent, loves chess, is kind, has a great sense of humor, and she’s also blonde,” she said with a smile, and Ron had to fight the urge to chuckle at the memory of Lucius Malfoy’s expression.

“Er – actually, I’m not interested in dating at the moment,” he cut in. He had let them continue all this while for the sake of amusement but it was time to put an end to it. “After what the Weasleys, Potter, and Granger did to me …. I really don’t think I’ll be able to make such close friends or even love as easily as I did before,” he said, receiving sympathetic looks from the others. Though he didn’t like being pitied, it had to be used sometimes to get what he wanted. Not to mention, it also ruined Potter and Granger’s reputation.

At once, the other people in the room’s expression changed to a more serious one, and Ron smirked mentally. These people, and no doubt more in the light faction, were already enchanted with him, and a lot of people would be against Potter now. The boy who lived’s reputation would be trashed, instead replaced with that of a boy who betrayed his best friend.

An awkward silence ensued, only broken by the occasional sip by someone. Suddenly, Madam Bones broke the silence with a question which threw Ron back.

“Ron, what is your view on Dark and Light magic?” she asked, her face a carefully crafted blank mask, though her eyes were cold and calculating. _A Slytherin in a Hufflepuff’s clothes. Crafty._

Ron thought about it for a few moments, before deciding to answer truthfully to the lords and ladies who sat with him. “Fine, I’m gonna answer truthfully, though you have to promise that no one in Hogwarts knows of this,” he said.

“Agreed,” accepted Amelia, while simultaneously warding the room.

“Alright. I grew up thinking that anything labeled as dark magic is bad, and such texts ought to be burnt. But then, my parents abandoned me, and so I discarded all they ever taught me, and instead started afresh.”

“The first time I used dark and blood magic, it filled me with this ….. I can’t describe it, but it made me feel _complete,_ if you know what I mean?” he asked, waving his arms wildly, and the other lords and ladies nodded in understanding.

“But then, I thought that this was dark magic, which was bad. I had a sort of internal debate, which ended with me concluding that dark magic was powerful, and I really saw no reason not to use it, for it could very well save my life someday,” he explained.

“In fact, right now, I don’t really see what differentiates between dark and light magic.”, he said, raising a few eyebrows. “Like, for example, if you ask anyone what dark magic is, they would tell you it is magic which could be used to harm someone. And yet, diffindo, a lethal spell with the correct usage, is considered alright,” and his audience nodded in agreement.

“Hell, I could in theory even kill a person with _accio!”_ he exclaimed. “Let’s just say, that I summoned all of a person’s teeth, then that would kill them instantly, and would also hurt like hell.”

“And so, I don’t really have any problem with the dark arts, as long as it doesn’t involve something like human sacrifice,” he concluded.

“And what about the unforgivables? Can you cast them?” asked Seth.

“Eh – not always. It takes me about … fifteen tries to get it right on average, unless I’m pissed at someone, in which case I can get it almost immediately.”

A tense silence reigned amongst the group for a few moments, during which no one spoke, until Tiberius finally broke the silence. “Your view on the dark arts is quite …. unique, Ronald. so, if I were to ask you, would you answer that you’re more light aligned or dark?”

“I am perfectly neutral,” he answered almost at once. “Gray. I use both types of magic, and I already gave my reasons to support both sides as well. I’m sure that all of you have already figured that the Order of the Phoenix were responsible for what happened to me, and they call themselves Light. In fact, me defeating alastor moody in a duel using just one dark spell was something which led to me practicing the dark arts more freely.”

“Neither side has given me any reason to stand with them, so I prefer to obscure myself, and remain an enigma.”

Amelia nodded approvingly, while the others had their eyebrows raised in skepticism and shock. “An excellent answer, Ronald. Though, I can’t help but doubt that you defeated Alastor in a duel.”

Ron grinned at her. “Yes, I did do it. He clearly underestimated me, which was why I managed to shatter his leg with a bone breaking hex at the same time as he hit my shoulder with a diffindo. Difference? Breaking his last useful leg incapacitated him, while I managed to power through the pain. That, is why I believe the dark arts are a useful tool against Tom Riddle, for to defeat our enemies, we have to know them as well,” he said, quoting Crouch from last year.

“Brilliantly stated.”, Miranda commended, raising her cup to him. “So”, she said, once she had taken a sip. “Could you show us some dark spells?”, while Amelia summoned a dummy at the same time.

Ron grinned at her, before showing her his right hand. “Look carefully at my palm and fingers.”, he said, and there were a few well deserved gasps at the sight.

If anyone peered closely at his hand, they would see blood runes that he had carved into his hand and wand 4 days ago, which would essentially stop him from ever losing grasp of his wand against his wish. It would also allow him to summon his wand wandlessly. It was pretty much an extremely better version of the sticking charm. He was currently learning glamours in order to hide it and the blood quill scars, which he could only manage to make fainter right now. And the best part? It wasn't the only piece of blood magic he'd been preparing over the past 2 weeks.

Drawing his hand back quickly, he headed to the dummy, wand at the ready, and decided to perform a spell which he still found a difficult.

Waving his wand in an S, he incanted _‘Serapignis’_ , and three fire snakes erupted from his wand, wrapping themselves around the dummy. He let it burn for a few seconds, controlling the snakes with Parseltongue, relishing in the power he possessed, before demonstrating _sectumsempra_ on the dummy as well.

He slowly turned to his audience, who were staring at him with a mixture of fear and awe. “Merlin,” breathed Seth. “And to think you’ve learnt this much dark magic right under Albus Dumbledore’s nose.”

At that, Ron felt a pang of guilt impale his heart, but he quickly quashed it. Yes, Dumbledore had taken him under his wing, but that didn’t have to mean that the man was always right. Daphne, Tracey, Theo, and Blaise had told him their concerns regarding what had transpired regarding the first year, and Ron had to concede that they did have a point. However, that didn’t mean that he stopped trusting the man who’d given him a new home.

But he still wouldn’t stop learning the occult arts. Who knew that they might save his life some day? Who knew, if they might end up saving _other’s_ lives one day, maybe even Albus’s himself? Who knew, that the dark arts themselves might one day defeat Voldemort?

After all, it as for the greater good.

With newfound resolve, Ron plopped down on his chair, and looked to the older lords and ladies. “Well, you’ve seen my opinion and skill in the dark arts. I think it’s your turn to do so, and also tell me about the national stance on the dark arts,” he said. And though his voice was carefree as usual, it also carried an underlying threat, displaying the power he had over them as their faction leader, and being much more skilled than them in the dark arts.

Amelia started. “I myself am inclined more to the Light, but that doesn’t mean that I will hesitate to fire a dark spell or a killing curse at someone who deserves it,” she said, her voice calm but dangerous.

“The Shafiq family is a bit more leaning to the dark, and I enjoy the power the dark arts bring me. In fact, I must say that I am impressed with your mastery over the occult,” Seth commended, and Ron nodded in response.

“The Abbots are the most light - leaning among the Neutral families. We don’t practice them, but we don’t scorn those who do either, considering, of course, that they don’t misuse them,” Miranda responded as expected, as he simply couldn’t imagine the smiling, dimple cheeked woman firing killing curses.

“I don’t practice the dark arts, but I don’t really have anything against them as long as they’re not used on innocents or those I care for. In fact, they prove for really good academic reads due to their limitless scope.”, said Artyom. _True Ravenclaw fashion._

“And Macmillan House is somewhere in the middle as well, just like you are,” finished Tiberius, and Ron raised an eyebrow at him.

“Then why was Ernie so scared and disgusted by Potter speaking Parseltongue?”, he questioned shrewdly, and Tiberius shrugged apologetically.

“He’s actually my nephew, and was raised by my strictly Light brother. He might be a bit big headed at times, as he is the one next in line to inherit my seat, but he’s alright otherwise,” he said, and Ron nodded.

“Well, what about the ministry? Do the aurors use dark spells?”

“I know for a fact that Rufus occasionally does after his wife was killed in an attack. Among the aurors …. Mad – eye uses _flagellum inferos_ , and I’d say around 10 percent of the aurors use dark magic rarely,” Amelia estimated, and Ron’s ears perked up at once at the mention of the new spell.

“ _Flagellum Inferos?”,_ he asked. Amelia smirked, before she conjured what looked like a whip of flame with her wand, and cracked it on the floor, leaving a long scorching mark.

“Merlin …. you have to teach me that spell!”, he pleaded at once.

“Hmm…” she hummed, tapping her chin with her wand. “I want you to teach me another bit of magic in return,” she demanded, and Ron agreed at once, knowing what he would teach her.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, before getting off her seat and slipping effortlessly into a dueling stance.

She showed him the spell, and Ron found it not too different from the fire snake spell. A week or two of practice would make him near perfect at it. In return, Ron removed a ritual dagger with Runes carved on it, and showed her a bit of blood magic. All that was required was a few runes drawn on an object in your blood, and the knife had to absorb some of your blood as well. After that, you just had to impale the object with the knife, and ask it to come to life, and voila! It would essentially become the whomping willow for a fixed amount of time, depending in how much blood you supplied it.

Once it was done, the two sweaty house heads came back to the table, a tad exhausted but satisfied. Miranda tutted at the two of them and hit them with some sort of spell which gave them a one second bath, before the group broke into idle chatter.

“Amelia, I take it that Susan is just as …. kind, to the dark arts as you are?” he questioned. Everyone knew why Amelia Bones was such a fierce woman. Her entire family, including her brother, Edgar, whom she was very close to, had been murdered in a random death eater attack by Thorfinn Rowle and his brother Mofran Rowle. She had supposedly managed to catch both of them on the spot with such a fierce display of magic that the very walls of the summer house they’d been in at the time had shaken with a single blasting curse. The Aurors had to hit her with 3 stunners to prevent her from disfiguring their faces anymore with her bleeding nails.

That incident had led her to her rapid ascent through the ministry, and made her one of the fiercest duelers and politicians ever. Now, all she had left was Susan, and he was pretty sure that both would readily fire a killing curse at Rowle or Dolohov if they ever saw them.

“Yes … though he doesn’t regularly use them, she still does know a fine number of dark curses,” she said curtly. “In fact, that is one of the reasons why I believe she’d be a good match for you, for she understands the importance of vengeance and the power of the dark arts.”, she added on, and Ron groaned loudly.

“Oh please, not that again!” he moaned, but by the devilish smirks on the other’s faces, it was clear that the topic of Dark Magic was closed for the day.

***************

Lucius Malfoy’s POV

_‘Crucio!’_

Lucius maintained an expressionless mask as Crabbe writhed on the ground, under the third cruciatus curse for falling for a child’s bait. His screams reverberated around the room at an erratic tempo and pitch, and Lucius winced as blood began to stream from his nose.

However, what the Dark Lord didn’t not know, that this child was not a child. His eyes carried a crafty glint which belonged on a lord who’d plowed through politics for years. His magical prowess was one even he was awed of (yes, he’d seen the memory in private before the meeting, and Merlin… was the child powerful), and his way of speaking was on level of Tom Riddle’s charm when he wanted to.

God, if only the teen had been his heir instead of Draco, who still hadn’t gathered the wits to strike peace with the red head.

“My Lord,” Yaxley suddenly intervened, his voice trembling only slightly, and Lucius was grateful for the pause in Crabbe’s screams, which were beginning to grate at his eardrums.

“What is it, Corban?” the dark lord hissed, a sound which sent shivers down his spine, even though his gaze was deliberately averted from his horrific face.

“Th – Lord Black”, he said, correcting himself just in time. For some reason, the dark lord insisted on calling the blood traitor Lord Black. “Handed Lucius a vial of memories, which he said would give him a taste of his power. I believe we should see it, in order to gain insight on Lord Black.”

There was a tense silence for a few seconds, and Lucius braced himself to hear more tortured screams, but was surprised when the dark lord actually listened to advice for once. _He’s a half bl – NO, don’t think of that, lest he read your mind._

“Lucius,” he said silkily. “Do hand me this unique vial.”

“M’lord,” he whispered, as he floated over the vial of silvery liquid to the horrific man at the head of the table.

Slowly, with perfect movements, Lord Voldemort performed the memory display spell, and every head in the ballroom whipped up in order to see what the vial revealed. In an effort to ignore his nervousness, Lucius began taking track of who all were present in the meeting.

_Narcissa Malfoy. Corban Yaxley. Lysandra Yaxley. Samantha Selwyn. Atticus Selwyn. Bartholomew Goyle. Colette Goyle. Vincent Crabbe Sr. Sandra Crabbe. Egbert Parkinson. Violet Parkinson. Felix Rosier. Evanore Rosier. Cantankerous Nott. Cordelia Nott. Alecto Carrow. Amycus Carrow. Johann Flint. Dominic Travers. Mallory Travers. Severus Snape?_

_Oh wait, he’s on his ‘spy’ job. Merlin knows why the dark lord still keeps him._

Just then, the memory began playing, and Lucius couldn’t stop himself from raising his head to look at it. He had watched the memory over and over again in his penseive, but he could never get enough of how a 15-year-old had managed to cast such powerful spells.

As the duel went on in the air above them, Lucius watched as several eyes widened, and a few jaws fell open in shock an awe. The dark lord’s eyes kept narrowing, but there was also a hint of approval in them as he observed the power Black’s blasting spells carried, and his unorthodox style of dueling. He even openly showed an expression of surprise when the child fired an extremely powerful blasting curse towards innocent bystanders in order to distract the old fool.

Once the memory was completed, the cloud on which it was projected disappeared in a puff of white smoke, the sole bit of light color in an otherwise dark room. There was complete silence for a few minutes, until the dark lord smiled a lipless smile.

“It appears, Ronald Black is much …. Darker than I thought,” he hissed, and Lucius had no doubt what he was thinking of. The _Incendio Maxima,_ the insanely powerful blasting curses, the blatant foul play, but most importantly, the blonde had noticed how Voldemort’s eyes had peaked when he saw Dumbledore suddenly wince in pain.

Lucius hadn’t been able to find any reason why it had happened, but it appeared that the Dark Lord had noticed something amidst the chaos of the scene.

“Continue planning the breakout, and find some way to get rid of … Scrimgeour without raising suspicions on us,” he said, a far off, contemplative look in his blood red eyes, and despite his hatred of Blood – Traitors and mudbloods, Lucius felt a bit of pity for him.

The dark lord had taken an interest in him, and when that happened, blood, pain, and death would follow. He just hoped that the two behemoths wouldn’t destroy London with the force of their duel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, chapter done! Sorry for the comparatively late update, because real life got in the way. This chapter was one in which I had to make a lot of changes, especially in the grammar errors as one reader helpfully pointed out. (Thanks to you again, btw.) In fact, from now on, expect updates to take 2 - 4 days on average, because I'm nearing the point until which I'd written.  
> Warning, this is a VERY long chapter, like over 24K words.  
> Fic of the day:  
> Ouroboros by Metalomagnetic  
> I am still reading this, and am hooked on! Tom Riddle centric, in which Voldemort gets stuck in the past and raises himself. Amazing, with details about what made Tom Riddle become Lord Voldemort.  
> As usual, reviews and comments are always welcome!  
> P.S. In case you're wondering, in this AU, there's quite a few more things different - i.e. Dumbledore doesn't discover Voldemort's past, and the other difference will come up in a later chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I can only dream about owning Harry Potter.   
> Oh, and I made a couple of changes.

Chapter 12: Aftermath of the Wizengamot

General POV

The next day at breakfast, Hermione noticed that Ron looked more smug than usual, and his fingers were constantly fidgeting, as if aching to grab something. When the owls arrived, she was surprised to see that he didn’t even wait for the owl to land, and instead summoned it straight out of the air.

In his rush, he nearly tore open the paper. _Something must have happened yesterday, or Ron wouldn’t be so happy_ , she noted as Ron cocked his head curiously, but still maintained his smile upon reading the paper.

She too picked up her paper, and her eyes widened as they travelled down the front page. From the constant commentary of gasps from besides her, she figured that Fred, George, Ginny, Harry, and Neville were also reading over her shoulder.

_THE MOST INTRIGUING WIZENGAMOT SESSION IN HISTORY!_

  * _By Rita Skeeter_



_Yesterday was the first Wizengamot session of the year, and many people have reported it to be the most intriguing Wizengamot session in ages. And all due to a certain Ronald Alphard Black, now Ronald Alphard Prewitt – Black – Tonks._

_It started off with Ronald’s induction into the Wizengamot, making him the youngest member ever. And to everyone’s shock, he claimed not one, but two house seats! The Prewitt and Black seats were rightfully claimed as his, which now makes him the most powerful person in the entire Wizengamot, apart from the Chief Warlock himself._

“Mum’s going to go spare over this,” whispered George from behind her. “Can’t believe that the old hag handed him the lordship so easily, when she didn’t even _consider_ Bill for it,” finished Fred.

_Further shocking even more people, he chose the Neutral Faction, instead of the Dark or Light faction as expected, and when asked about why he did it, was quick to give a smooth reply, saying that he both wanted wizarding community to progress, while also maintaining traditions._

_However, it can also be argued that he only did so for shock value, and to become the leader of the faction, i.e., purely selfish reasons._

_Furthermore, he went on to deliberately act as if he wasn’t paying attention, only in an attempt to embarrass the esteemed Lord Crabbe –_ Harry scoffed at that. “Esteemed lord my arse,” he muttered – _who alerted the Chief Warlock._

_However, it turned out that he also wanted to raise his topic in the most overly dramatic manner possible, and went on to deliver the most controversial, yet entrancing speech in the WIzengamot ever recorded._

_He started off by openly declaring the lie that He – who must – not – be - named was back, and went on to deliver a hodgepodge mess that he called proof, defending his supposed ex – best friend, Harry Potter, who right now is just as infamous in the wizarding world as Ronald Black is._

She could almost sense tears of shame coming to Harry’s eyes at the statement, that despite all that they had done to him, he still defended him. _I really am a wretched person, aren’t I?_

_He furthermore went on to present a letter he had received from Lord Gaunt in front of the wizengamot, claiming that he had received it from none other than the ‘resurrected’ Dark Lord._

There were several gasps at this, and Hermione felt herself go pale at the thought that Ron might have received a letter from Voldemort. _What would he want with Ron?_

_He presented a mess of totally unrelated pieces of information which he called evidence, claiming that you – know – who, went by the name of Tom Riddle at school, and that he was the son of Merope Gaunt, a squib, and an unknown muggle. However, we have absolutely no evidence backing this, and so we believe he was only making stuff up in an effort to earn fame._

However, Hermione, Harry, and the Weasleys knew better. Tom Riddle was indeed Voldemort’s real name, and it appeared that he really sent a letter to Ron. She turned around, expecting to find a pale Ginny, but was surprised to see that she was calmly eating her breakfast while peering at the newspaper. Her only displayed emotion being her anger at Skeeter.

 _However, the sad part was that a surprising number of lords and ladies_ – Ron choked on his porridge on the Slytherin table. “A surprising number,” he gasped. “I worked for hours on that bloody speech, and they reduce it to a ‘surprising number’, even when only around 15 of those cowards saw the truth!” – _of the Light and Neutral factions were swayed by his charming words, and are now treating him like some sort of hero, despite his constant, blatant disrespect of the Minister and the Senior Undersecretary with the use of backhanded insults._

_“Ronald Black is still a child, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t any less dangerous. I believe that he needs to be put under check, or he might end up as a danger to the population … or worse, another Dark Lord,” Lucius Malfoy said in an interview a few hours after the Wizengamot had concluded._

_If that was not enough, he went on to blatantly insult the Daily Prophet, and by extension, the ministry, by stating that we do not print the truth at all, and once more, several lords and ladies found themselves lost in his enticing words._

_However, before continuing, we do accept that we are not perfect, and we sometimes make mistakes. One such occasion was that we weren’t able to mention how Ronald Black had made a blood oath in the great hall on his first day at school, proving my suspicions as wrong, and for this I sincerely apologize on behalf of the prophet to not only Lord Prewitt – Black, but to all of our readers. However, I will assure all of you, that we are not bigoted, as Ronald Black accused._

Several people in the hall snickered at this, and the Slytherins commended Ron on how he had managed to make the infamous Rita Skeeter apologize.

Far away, in her flat in diagon alley, Rita Skeeter was currently downing her shame at having to apologize to the public in a bottle of firewhiskey. Goddamned Ronald Black had a tongue made of pure silver, and he’d managed to make the minister force her to apologize. The Daily Prophet was her life, and all she did was for it, and Ronald Black was proving to be a dangerous enemy. If she’d had her way, she’d have only tried harder to sink Black’s name, but the rotund, stupid minister had forced her to apologize.

_Then, he went on to defend the Goblin nation, and also displayed a dangerous weapon, a Morningstar, which he could call to his hand anytime he wanted, which I believe is a huge breach of security. However, I do agree, that Goblins ought to be respected more, since they are the ones who run our economy. But that doesn’t mean that giving away all the Goblin made artefacts in one’s possession is worth a gift weapon and their allegiance._

More indignant gasps at how fickle the daily prophet’s opinion was followed this paragraph. Hermione smiled at how he defended another race which was prejudiced against. _In one article, they called him a dark lord, while also_

_After the Wizengamot, Ronald Black was last seen talking and joking with his fellow faction members, before he disappeared to Diagon Alley. He was unable for any further comment, and so we have no idea what he might be thinking._

_Ronald Black is proving to be an enigma. It is clear that he is a very conniving person, a master strategist, and a master with words who could rival Grindelwald’s talent of swaying crowds to his favor. He is clearly very talented at magic, as shown by his display of NEWT level spells, along with some sort of spell which conjures multiple mobile discs which could behead a person, and I believe that he developed this spell on his known. It might also be dark magic._

_Overall, I will conclude by saying that Ronald Black is one very enigmatic person, on whom even I find it nigh on impossible to find a read on. However, one thing is clear; he has a clear disregard for the rules, a hatred for authority figures, and this makes him a dangerous person._

_Ronald Alphard Prewitt – Black – Tonks, is a living contradiction._

Many people were wondering why Ron was smiling, while the article was once again bad – mouthing him. Ron was smirking, because it appeared that the paper in his hands had been sent by madam bones herself, and she had written a note on the bottom of the page.

_Ronald._

_I have sent the headmaster a copy of the memories you distributed yesterday, and have asked him to display them to the great hall. Enjoy leaving even more people speechless with your silver tongue._

_Amelia_

He looked with an innocent expression at Albus, who was staring intently at him, his eyes showing clear disapproval for his actions at yesterday’s session, and the amount of trouble it would get him into. _Seriously, I just did what was needed. Can’t anyone understand that?_ After a few seconds, he finally gave into Ron’s pleading eyes, and picked up the vial of memories. _He’s already put himself in enough danger, so the least I can do is ensure that his efforts do not go to waste._

Abruptly, he got up from his seat without a word with the vials in his hand, and walked to the center of the hall, ignoring the surprised protests of the teachers.

With a miniscule smile no playing on his lips, he performed the incantation for displaying memories in air, waving his wand to create a huge screen, and there were several gasps as the Wizengamot quickly came into view from Ronald’s perspective just as he was entering the hall.

He didn’t notice as Snape and McGonagall discreetly stunned and froze Umbridge, who’d been about to get up and protest Albus’s actions, maybe even throw a spell at him.

The memory went on for about thirty minutes, a period during which the tension and excitement in the air could almost be felt physically. Minerva’s mind automatically tuned out the constant gasps of the children as her senses honed in on the display.

Ronald was clearly a master storyteller, and the way he combined his hand movements, expressions, and voice, was a perfect match for controlling the crowd. Minerva, along with several others in the hall found themselves vigorously nodding to Ronald’s wishes, and she was surprised to see that he even managed to manipulate the minister at once point.

It was clear that Ronald was not the type who made your blood rush in your ears with raging emotions like Potter was. He was more of a storyteller and a manipulator. The way he smiled innocently stole his listeners’ hearts, and the manner in which he interspersed childish insults and mockery along with his words made sure to never make his audience suspect that they were actually being manipulated. He had even managed to make Severus snort with his comment about his preference for blondes, instilled out of nowhere.

Once the memory was done, the audience found themselves releasing a breath that they didn’t realize that they had been holding. In a speech in a memory, Ron had made them go pale with fear, laugh, and had made them want to punch the Minister of magic in the face.

Once the excitement had passed, Albus went back to his seat, his arms wide open. “Given what we just experienced, I believe today we shall have no classes. Consider this as a small gift from Mr. Black – Tonks and I!” Dumbledore announced, to the general joy of the students. Even Hermione didn’t complain, as they had a lot to discuss with people like Seamus Finnegan. Only Ron noticed the old wizard’s pointed look sent towards him.

“Poppy, please take care of Madam Umbridge, as she seems to have passed out from an overdose of watching her own stupidity,” snarked Severus, and Poppy chuckled at the dour professor.

“I believe, we need to have a meeting of the teachers, and Ronald should be invited as well,” Minerva said, walking up to the table, a slightly dazed expression on her face. Dumbledore chuckled in response.

“Of course, Minerva,” he said through a smile.

Ginny suddenly heard a gasp from a few seats to her left, and she turned to see Parvati and Lavender pointing excitedly at the latest edition of Witch - Weekly. “Oh Gods! Look!” she shrieked, pointing at a page somewhere in the middle of the book.

Curious to see what had piqued the attention of the two girls, Ginny walked over and plucked the magazine straight out of their hands, and held it in front of her for Harry, Hermione, Neville, Fred and George to read.

As soon as she read the first para, her eyes widened in shock, and she had to fight the urge to laugh.

Right there, on the column which declared the ‘most eligible bachelor of the month’, was the name Ronald Prewitt - Black – Tonks, along with a whole bunch of pictures.

She could almost feel the heat emanating from Hermione’s cheeks, as she blushed crazily at the pictures. Ginny had to admit, whoever had taken them had done a bloody damn good job. There were several pictures of Ron in different poses in his Wizengamot robes, speaking animatedly with the lords and ladies.

However, all the pictures had one thing in common. They all paid a lot of attention to Ron’s face, emphasizing the way his eyes seemed to have embers of passion burning within them, his hair blood red, simply emanating power. The way his hands were spread wide in one image, as if daring the world to try and defeat him was the one which was the best in Ginny’s opinion.

On the Slytherin table, Ron had discovered the article from a snickering Tracey who’d handed them to him. He was currently doing his best to crawl under the table in order to hide his blush, and to shelter himself from the leers he was getting from girls all over the room. _Fuck you, can’t you just leave me alone for one minute? Fame’s alright and all, until there’s a billion people trying to get into your pants, when it becomes a thorn in the back._

 _Overall,_ thought Harry as he watched the entire hall silently. _It’s an average day at Hogwarts. Only thing we need now is Voldemort turning up to the party as well._

***************

Severus Snape’s POV

Severus sat in the staff room with the Tonkses, other heads of houses, and Albus, waiting for Ronald to come in after finishing his breakfast. He could have sworn that the boy was deliberately eating as slowly as he could in order to annoy them.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door which had no need of being answered, as the object of his woes barged in and took up a chair opposite to Albus without even a word. The fact that Filius, Pomona, and Albus were chuckling at his antics did nothing to ease his annoyance. However, the potions master didn’t miss the way which Albus’s eyes also radiated worry and anger, most probably at Ron. The look was very similar to how he’d seen fathers eye their mischevious children during his rare visits to diagon alley.

 _Good, he really needs someone for him,_ he thought to himself in a rare moment of compassion. It was a side of him was already quite redundant, and was shown to the outside world even less.

“So, tell me why have we called this meeting?” he asked cheerfully, as if he had much more important things to attend to.

“To … congratulate you for your performance, and talk about other matters as well,” replied Albus.

“Firstly, thank you. Secondly, before we start the meeting, I would like to talk to professor Flitwick and Sprout,” he said, turning to those he’d addressed, who looked at him curiously.

_What have you got in mind now, Ronald?_

“Professors, I want to know why you haven’t joined the Order of the Phoenix,” he said, blunt and to the point, and Severus raised an eyebrow.

Filius sighed, no doubt from having heard the same argument from Albus previously. “Ronald, I did not join the order, because I have no wish to fight. I find it much better to simply teach children, prepare them for the next generation.”

“I’m not asking you to fight,” he said, shrugging, and Filius looked at him curiously, a goblin’s crafty gleam in his eyes. “I heard that you’re a champion dueler from Amelia Bones. Just because you’re not fighting, doesn’t mean that you don’t have to teach.”

“But pray, tell me, who shall I teach?”, he asked, trying to see where Ronald was taking the matter.

“New Order recruits, and me as well by extension,” he said, and eyes widened all over the room. “I plan to get at least 15 more aurors into the Order in a few months. Let’s face it, a lot of the members of the Order are not really what I would call expert duelists. Lupin doesn’t strike me as a fighter, Dedalus Diggle too, Sirius has probably grown rusty in Azkaban, the four Weasleys are bound to be absolute pants at dueling, Mundungus Fletcher … I don’t even know why he’s in the Order. Sturgis Podmore is in Azkaban, and Elphias Doge looks too old to be of any use.”

He narrated this entire list while looking the charms Professor straight in the eye, gaze not turning to anyone else the entire time. Suddenly, he looked to him, Albus, and Minerva.

“Professor, I hate to hurt you, but the Order which we have currently could probably be wiped out by Voldemort all by himself. I’m pretty sure that if we put someone like Bellatrix Lestrange against half of these people, they would be killed in an instant. We’re fighting the most powerful dark wizard of all time, and we need warriors. Not people who spend their time hiding and doing nothing in the misuse of muggle artefacts department,” he said. _Brutal_.

Severus found himself agreeing to his words, because yes, the order was very weak. He had noticed it over the months – the way Podmore always seemed to be slouching, the way the only thing Elphias Doge had seemed capable of was making tea. However, he hadn’t raised the topic, instead preferring to be the silent spy like he’d been for years.

“Ronald … what are you saying? These men and women are very capable of fighting Voldemort. They are all kind hearted people, who are ready to give up their lives for the cause,” Albus said softly.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Firstly, I kind of doubt the fact that all of them are as good as you make them sound, after all, we all know what they did to me,” and Albus and Minerva visibly flinched.

“I don’t doubt for one second that they are willing to give up their lives for the cause, but that’s the problem!” he said, hitting the table with his fist. “They might be willing to die for the cause, but are they willing to actually utilize their alive time for the cause?” he said, and the words seemed to take Albus back, and actually rethink the matter. Ron smirked at his small victory, and decided to push on.

“Let’s see, Bill Weasley may serve as a good curse breaker, I accept, but he needs to up his dueling. Charlie is nigh on useless due to the abnormal amount of time he spends with his dragons. Molly Weasley only seems to be good for cooking – “

“She takes care of people! She’s a kind hearted, caring woman!” Minerva bit out, feeling her temper rise, and Ron turned to her with a perfectly calm, yet stormy expression. The look of hatred in his eyes for his own mother made Severus shiver.

“I don’t doubt that fact, but if she’s such a caring person, why doesn’t she learn healing from Andromeda and Ted? Because, cooking will be of no use in a war or battle. Healers, on the other hand, are very useful, and if she’s like you say, I’m pretty sure she will be a good healer.”

Transitioning smoothly, he now addressed everyone together, standing up for emphasis. “Elphias Doge, as I said is way too old to be of any use other than reconnaissance. I don’t even know what use Mundungus Fletcher presents other than being a security threat. Through Arthur Weasley, I believe you wanted a spy within the ministry?” he asked, and Severus nodded.

“Well, that man will never achieve anything from the position he currently is in. I can give you a much better spy: Percy Weasley.” and Severus’s eyes widened in surprise and realization.

“He’s currently direct secretary to Umbridge, and by extension is even closer to Fudge and Lucius Malfoy. He will also agree to help me, and I can arrange a meeting with him soon.”

“But you know what the most important part is? Percy is the most Slytherin of the Weasleys,” he said, surprising his listeners from the statement which had come out of the blue.

“Look at the order. It is filled to the brim with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, who though have hearts of gold and are also intelligent academically, lack the cunning and ruthlessness of Slytherin and Ravenclaw. We need more of these two houses on our side, or we’re gonna lose this war. And Percy has a lot of Slytherin in him.”

“Because,” he said, hands dropping to his sides, staring each of them dead in the eye. “War, is not won by Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs who have hearts of gold. Who will prefer to spare the enemy and give them a second - chance. War is won by cold hearted men who will not hesitate to torture or kill their enemies. Who will not hesitate to resort to foul – play.”

“Ronald!” said Albus warningly, but Severus knew that Ron was right.

“No Albus, he’s correct,” he cut in abruptly, his voice devoid of all emotion as usual. “Everyone says that we won the first war due to Harry Potter, but we all know that that was nothing more than a fluke. By Halloween 1981, the dark lord had grown desperate because of the actions of Barty Crouch, who ordered a kill on sight order on any suspected death eaters. It had led to piles of death eaters and pureblood’s bodies, many considered it inhumane, but in the end, it had saved countless lives on our side. In fact, those who complained about his actions being vile where the very same ones who did nothing but hide the entire war.”

“I, myself,” piped in Andromeda, and Severus found himself unable to meet her eyes due to her resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange, a mad woman who he’d watched torture muggles for fun, mutilate them in horrific manners, and keep them locked up in closed spaces without any light or mental stimuli, like insects, bugs, until they went insane. And he himself had done nothing that entire time.

“Can say as a healer during the first war that the number of victims, both muggle and wizard drastically dropped after Crouch gave his order. Professor Snape does have a point.”

The entire room was silent for a few seconds, as they mulled over the words which had transpired in the room, and Ronald sent an appreciative glance at both of them, before sitting down and looking Filius straight in the eye.

“Professor Flitwick, I know that you have goblin blood running in your veins, and I still respect you the same amount despite that,” he said, hitting straight at the professor’s sensitive spot, the place where a person who didn’t care if he hurt the other person’s feelings if it meant getting what he wanted, would strike.

“However, Tom Riddle is not like me. He would call people like you and Hagrid as ‘Filthy Half – Breeds’, and would kill not only you, but Goblins and Giants as well, once he’d done using them.”

“In fact,” he continued. “I have noticed the pained looks which cross yours, professor McGonagall’s, and Dumbledore’s faces every now and then, and I know that something tragic happened to all of you in the past.”

Ron had indeed seen these expressions running across their faces as part of the training Andy had assigned him to improve his perceptiveness. The number of things one noticed if they paid attention was truly surprising.

“Now, I have absolutely no idea what happened to the other three, but I assume, that Voldemort and his death eaters did something along the lines of murdering your family and tribe,” he said, hitting the nail on the head on the first try.

Filius visibly flinched, but Ron didn’t stop. “Tell me, professor, I’m sure that since you began teaching, you’ve started to look at the students as your own children, and the school as your family. So, when Voldemort inevitably declares open war, how many of your family do you think you’ll lose again? Tell me, would you like seeing the corpses lining the halls and corridors, children whose lives _you_ might have saved with just one simple action?” he powered on, guilt tripping not only the charms professor, but the others as well.

Severus noticed that Filius had begun shaking, his face downcast, and was about to ask Ronald to stop mentally torturing the man, but Ron noticed it as well, and sat on the table, on arm around the tiny teacher.

“Professor,” he said in a soft whisper which travelled across the room, caressing them softly, caringly, like a mother cleaning her child’s face. “I don’t want to force you into making a decision, for in the end, it’s all a matter of choice. You could stay here, teach your family, but it would lead to a lot of deaths. Of your own tribe.”

“Or you could join the order,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly, as if it was an unimportant decision. “You could continue teaching the children, while simultaneously training soldiers. You could play a huge role in this war. You could stop your tribe and family from dying once again. From being _murdered,_ with their blood on your hands as much as it will be on Riddle’s hands _._ ”

And with those words, he got back up, and sat on his seat, staring Filius straight in the eyes, his own passionate ones meeting the half – goblin’s bloodshot ones. He leaned forward, not breaking eye contact, and spoke once more, in a deadly, but still caring whisper.

Like the whisper of death.

“Because, in the end, it’s all. Your. Choice.”

He reverted back to his initial position, and closed his eyes, dropping back his head, the picture of relaxation. The entire room was deathly still, no one daring to speak, let alone move at all. The only sound was Filius’s ragged breathing.

Severus found himself fearing, horrified, and yet in awe of how skilled Ronald was with words, how he had managed to reduce two people to tears, and yet, was now recruiting Filius Flitwick, a man Albus had tried to recruit and failed.

At that moment, the meaning of Ron’s starting speech about morals made perfect sense. Albus never hit a person’s weak spots. Yes, he manipulated events, but never people, because despite the way some of his actions were dubious, he still did his best to maintain a sense of morality which included never telling a person something like what Ron had ended his words with – blaming them for things which weren’t really their fault. Those morals had cost them Filius and Pomona, something which might have saved another few hundred lives in the war.

And here was Ron, openly manipulating, hurting Filius, reducing him to tears in front of them, ripping open past wounds and then healing them again, showing him that he cared. And Severus was almost certain that Filius would accept.

It was wrong, hurtful, amoral, but Ron had clearly lost his sense of morality quite a while ago, instead doing whatever would help the most in the war. Even if it put himself in danger, made others hate him, or maybe even tarnished his soul, because the way he spoke about killing so casually was something truly unnerving.

After about a minute, Filius looked up, staring Ronald straight in the eyes. “I accept,” he said, his voice that of the most feared competition dueler Europe had seen in ages. His eyes carried a certain strength, and the craftiness of the Goblins, something which clearly satisfied Ronald.

Ronald smiled at the professor gratefully, and something about the way he even smiled seemed to make it look like some forbidden fruit. As if even if they had to run a thousand miles just to see that one smile, it would all be worth it.

“Thank you,” he said softly, addressing the charms professor only. “We won’t let you lose your family and loved ones ever again.”

They maintained eye contact for a few seconds, before Ron sharply turned to Pomona, his eyes flashing dangerously; like a hunter looking for his next prey for a second, before they had turned kind again.

It was only then, did Severus notice that Pomona had been crying silently as well, for her eyes were bloodshot too. “No need to even ask me, Ronald. I accept already,” she said strongly, her voice that of the woman who’d discovered 30 unknown plant species, made 10 hybrids of her own, and helped Severus in developing several new healing potions. 

It was the voice of the woman who’d lost her fiancée to the war, and yet come forward stronger, and had been the only one among the 5 heads to not wallow in grief, and had instead moved on, even helping the others to move on. It really explained why Severus himself believed that Hufflepuff house, despite being the most underestimated of all houses, contained the strongest individuals.

Ron raised a surprised eyebrow at this, before smiling gratefully at her as well. He didn’t even need to look at his adoptive parents before they too agreed to joining the Order. Suddenly her turned to Albus and Minerva, who had their eyes wide open at how quickly Ron had managed to recruit the four teachers.

“See Professors, this is what I mean,” he said, voice not contemptuous, but that of a teacher teaching a student. “I agree, I openly manipulated Filius, striking at old wounds, while you refused to do so, and instead stuck to ‘morals’. But I ask you, what use are morals, if they lead to deaths? If I can save a hundred lives at the cost of losing my ‘precious morals’, then who am I to not save them?” he asked, tone now challenging.

At this, the two Gryffindors in the room had to concede defeat, for Ron was speaking the truth, with ample evidence. Ron smirked victoriously at proving Albus Dumbledore wrong.

“I admit, Ronald, that you do have a point,” said Albus. “However … even though you’ve proved the truth in your words and actions, please do be careful with the path which you tread.”

“Morals do exist for a reason, and the way you’re willing to sacrifice all of them …” his eyes sharpened. “For The Greater Good.” Ronald flinched violently at the subtle accusing tone in the headmaster’s voice.

“It’s a very dangerous path you tread. I won’t forbid you now, though you will have to be very cautious. And if I see things getting out of hand … I’m afraid I will have to stop you.”

A tense silence reigned for a few seconds, in which the redhead refused to meet the headmaster’s eyes, finally, he gritted out from between his teeth, “I am _not_ another Grindelwald or Voldemort, like the Prophet is saying.”

Albus sighed, shaking his head with a strange look in his eyes. “I know that you’re not another dark lord, Ronald. I’m cautioning you, because it isn’t only dark lords who get drawn in too deep by such risky ideologies.”

Severus had the distinct feeling that the old wizard had a lot of experience with the words he was stating. _Well, don’t I have as well? After all, wasn’t I too drawn in by Lucius’s silky words, and ended up making the one the worst decisions of my life?_

Ron blinked owlishly for a few moments, before shaking his head to clear stray thoughts. “You know, let’s just talk about confusing stuff like morals and dark lords some other time _._ For now, let’s talk about my … cost of service.”

“And what is your ‘cost of service’?”, Albus asked, smiling a bit.

“I want to be inducted into the order, and that too at a high position, just below you, professor,” he said, and all eyes in the room widened to the size of saucers, aside from Severus’s.

_Can’t forget that he was a Gryffindor, Potter’s best mate, and a Weasley before he came here. He has absolutely no sense of self – preservation at all, as he’s shown over and over again._

“You, WHAT?” exclaimed Minerva, shock evident all over her features.

Albus frowned at the Slytherin before him, who looked completely unbothered. “No, you are too young to be inducted into the Order, Ronald. You’ve already gotten yourself into enough trouble, and I won’t let you fight on the frontlines. And, then again, none of the Order members will react well to a 15 – year – old joining them.”

Ronald, as expected, waved off his concerns. “The others’ opinions don’t really matter, and I’m not exactly asking to be put into the middle of battle, am I?” he said. “And besides, it’s already well established that I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, a deadly duelist, and have probably done more for our cause than most of the Order combined.

“No, Ron,” said Teddy. “The headmaster is right you are too young to join the Order. We won’t let you put yourself at any more risk than before, even if you say that you’re not going to be fighting on the frontlines.”

Ron narrowed his eyes at the two overprotective men, and for the first time understood how Ginny felt when he, Fred, and George constantly told her to stay off boyfriends until she was in seventh year. Sure, it did make him feel warm in the chest, but overprotectiveness was _very_ annoying.

“Well, if you’re so adamant about not letting me in, then don’t expect to earn any new auror recruits, or even any financial or political aid.”

“We know you well enough to know that you’ll do your best to fight the Dark Lord even if you don’t get your wishes,” said Severus with a cocked eyebrow, and Ron groaned.

“Actually,” piped in Albus, his eyes fractionally wider, and expression which said that he’d just realized something. “Yes, in that case, we will allow you to join the Order.”

Ron stared at him in surprise, before a wide smile came across his features. “But, you will have to promise not to put yourself in unnecessary danger, and follow the rules which I set.

Severus stared at Albus, mentally asking him what brought about the sudden change in opinion. _Knowing him, he’ll probably try and do something even more brash, like starting an organization of his own. This way we can still keep an eye on him,_ he replied.

“Right – o,” he answered in a singsong voice. “So, shall we call an Order meeting?”

“Yes, we shall,” he replied as they got up and sent patroni to call the Order members for the meeting.

“Do you want to learn the patronus charm?”, Minerva asked softly, smiling at his awestruck expression, making him actually look like a child instead of the terror who’d reduced Filius to tears a few minutes ago.

“Oh, er – maybe sometime later,” he replied, clearly uncomfortable about talking on the topic of patroni. Minerva frowned but didn’t say anything else.

Suddenly, Ron frowned, thinking about something, his ‘idea look’, as the teachers liked to call it, on his face. “Hey, this system of messaging must take quite some time, right?” he asked.

“Yes, though it only takes a maximum of 5 minutes for the patronus to reach its address,” Filius replied.

“But it’s still too slow,” protested Ron, before he suddenly became quiet, no doubt pondering a solution to the problem, not even noticing the chuckles from the teachers.

He brightened abruptly as they were heading to the floo, leaving the teachers wondering as to what out – of – the – world idea he had come up with this time.

A few minutes later, they had arrived in Grimmauld place, and Filius and Pomona were looking around the place curiously, while Ron deigned to go running around the home, no doubt looking for Black and the other inhabitants.

A few moments later, Black and Lupin turned up and froze at the sight of the newcomers. _Oh gods, he neglected to alert them. His love for drama’s going to get us all into trouble sometime._

“YOU!” roared Filius, his wand out in a second. Lily had been exceptional at Charms, which was why Filius had always been fond of her. _She was perfect in everything, to be hon – don’t think about that. Now’s not the time._

“What is he doing here?” demanded Andromeda, her wand pointed at Black as well, who himself seemed to want nothing more than to hide behind his boyfriend.

“He should be in Azkaban!” spat Ted, glaring at Black.

“SILENCE!” roared Albus, plunging the entire room into silence as all of them stared at him. For the umpteenth time in his life, Severus found himself actually _afraid_ of Albus. Despite his garish star – spangled purple robes, the way his eyes seemed to be made of blazing embers, the lines in his face hard instead of kind, made him look as terrifying as Lord Voldemort.

“All of you will sheath your wands,” he instructed, voice calm but firm. “Sirius, Remus, please sit down on some chairs. Let me explain the events to you, before any of us end up doing something we’ll later regret,” he said, sending a glare at Ron who shrugged helplessly.

The next few minutes were spent explaining the entire story to the new members, while Severus did his best to tune out the conversation and instead let his eyes roam the musty room. He’d already spent hours reminiscing about the story, and had no wish to drown in even more memories of Lily and thoughts of how fun it would be to slowly torture Pettigrew before killing him.

“Oh, I’m so, so sorry, Sirius,” exclaimed Pomona, before engulfing her ex – student in a hug which left him gasping for breath.

Andromeda had tears in her eyes, losing her composure for once, and she exchanged a long, meaningful look with her cousin before the two embraced as well. Severus found the sight too emotional for him, and chose to walk away from the table. To his surprise, he found Ronald outside the room, playing with his wand on the stairs. _When did he get out?_

“What are you doing here?” he asked, causing the redhead to jump.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same question, professor?” he replied shrewdly, not meeting his gaze for fear of a mental probe.

Severus stared at the boy for a few moments, before sighing and sitting on the stairs next to him, much to his surprise. “What, I too need to rest my legs occasionally,” he snapped at his flabbergasted expression, causing the redhead to smile.

They stayed like that in amicable silence for a few moments, none of them saying anything, simply losing themselves in their thoughts. “You left for the same reason as I did, didn’t you?” Ronald asked after a few minutes, and the teacher cocked an eyebrow at him, prodding him to go on.

“Those two hugging … It was too emotional, you know what I mean?” he said, floundering to explain how he was feeling. “Like … that feeling when you want something so badly when you see them, but are also afraid of becoming like them?”

Severus just stayed silent, not knowing what to say to the _child_ beside him. He of course knew what he was saying, too well, in fact … but talking about it to another person was something he’d never done. And he was pretty sure that Ronald had never talked about it either, instead preferring to shove it to the back of his mind and immerse himself in bitterness, like he himself had done.

More silence followed, until the redhead began softly humming a tune, one which his mother had shown him. Severus’s neck snapped up and he stared at him in shock as painful, _happy_ memories flew to the front of his mind at that tune. It was one he’d heard Lily hum countless times – even sing it, when they were in their third year and they’d snuck out in the middle of the night to go to the forbidden forest.

Those times had been the best times of his life, and he had thrown it all away, first by practicing dark magic, falling into the circle of death eaters, and finally calling her that abhorrent word.

“How do you know that tune!” he demanded, startling Ron, before his eyes widened in realization.

“Who was it?” he asked, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. _That smile does NOT belong on a 15 – year – old._

“No one,” he said, slamming up the walls in his mind.

Ron just stared at him for a few moments, before sighing. “If you don’t want to talk about it, all you need to do is say that, professor. I won’t pry, but you should think about talking to someone about it, y’know?”

“Have _you_ talked about it?” Severus snapped back before he could stop himself, choosing to exude his usual petty bitterness instead of even considering his words.

At once, his serena, calm façade was gone, replaced by maliciousness. “I _have_ talked to my friends,” he said, though it was a blatant lie. His past was one topic which he never broached with his friends, instead preferring to keep it all locked inside. Tracey had told him countless times that it was unhealthy, but neither the other three, not he had listened to her.

“Unlike you. And please, for the love of Merlin, you need to stop being bitter to everyone due to something which happened in the past, presumably involving Potter or his parents due to how much you seem to hate him. Even I don’t do that.”

“And what about your constant bullying of Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter? Isn’t that _wrong_ as well?”

Ron’s eyes narrowed, before he turned around and began walking to the meeting room, where all the Order members were now gathered. “That, is different,” he replied stubbornly, and didn’t even give Severus a chance to retaliate before walking into the room, a smirk pasted on his face.

The potions master shook his head before following Ronald. The boy, somehow, managed to be even more annoying than the Potter brat, and that was a truly commendable feat in Severus’s textbook.

He preferred to not think about the words he had said to him. He didn’t want to think about how, despite the years, he still was that same arrogant, stupid, petty, weak boy he’d been in his youth. How, even now, he wasn’t _good enough_ for Lily – would never be, in fact.

When he entered the meeting room, it was to the sight of Ronald at the head of the table, a winning smirk on his face as most of the Order members glared at him. “Alright, Order of the Chickens, let me tell you why this meeting has been called.”, he began, causing only Moody and Albus to chuckle, one uproarious, the other soft.

“I’m pretty sure that Potter has already informed you of all that took place in the great hall today morning.”, he said, and Sirius sent a surprised look at him.

“Yeah, can’t believe Snivellus would pull off something like that.”, he said, snickering at him, and Severus had to resist the urge to strangle the ex - convict. However, before he could fire back with a witty retort, Ron beat him to it.

“Sirius, there’s no need for childish insults here,” he said coldly, causing Sirius to reel back in surprise. For a moment, the redhead looked like he was about to say something more, but the moment passed as quickly as it had come. Instead, he continued speaking.

“Anyways, long story short, after Albus declared holiday, I and all the teachers here had a meeting, in which I convinced professors Flitwick and Sprout to joining the order,” he said nonchalantly, and several Order members had their jaws drop in shock.

“However, my services obviously come at a cost, since I have no inclination at all to help you, and so professor Dumbledore granted me the second highest rank in the Order, right below him. Which gives me superiority over all of you,” he announced, and this time, several people couldn’t stop themselves from exclaiming “WHAT!”, in shock, unknowingly quoting Minerva.

“We never said anything like that!” said Ted, frowning, and Ron grinned at him.

“There’s no need to say anything. I just took what I wanted.”

“Oh, come on,” Vance protested from somewhere in the shadows. “You honestly can’t expect that he can defend himself. Yes, I know about his duel with Alastor, and I’ve seen him in the Wizengamot, but he’ll probably get himself killed due to the number of enemies he’s made!” To his credit, Ron looked confused as to whether she was worried for him, or if she was mocking him, before picking the latter.

“Emmeline…”, Sirius said pleadingly, more for her safety than Ron’s. Emmeline was quite a hot headed, passionate woman, and Severus always thought that that passion would someday get the young auror killed.

At once, Ron’s eyes turned that inhuman shade of blue, freezing Emmeline in her place. “Headmaster, could you show them the memory of our first duel?” he said coldly, causing several eyes to widen across the room, for the Order didn’t know of the duels between Albus and Ron which had become a source of entertainment for the teachers over the summer.

“Ronald, what did I tell you?” Albus said softly. “You’ll have to follow the same rules which the others follow.”

“And how am I breaking any rules?”

“We don’t endorse using displays of power to prove your superiority,” said the old wizard. To Ron’s surprise, Severus instead chose to display the memory to the aurors. He wasn’t exactly happy with the Slytherin, but the Order clearly needed something to give them a wake – up call.

Severus could almost feel the heat of the dark flames, and the power of the blasting curse making the room shake, even though it was just within memories, and it was clear from the Order’s expressions that they had just discovered just how weak they were in comparison to Ronald. Albus frowned at him, but didn’t say anything.

“And this duel happened before I’d even completed 2 weeks of dueling training,” Ronald said once the memory had finished, his eyes boring straight to Emmeline’s soul. “So, will you challenge me once more, Emmeline?” he said, twisting her name in the same grotesque fashion as Granger had experienced at the opening feast.

“N – no,” she said, stammering in fear at the look on Ronald’s features. The red head straightened up, having seen that his power wasn’t questioned anymore, and his look reminded Severus of how the dark Lord looked while peering at his death eaters.

“Good,” he said, voice a silky whisper. “So, the first thing we need to do is ensure that none of you take as long as you do currently to arrive at a meeting. I have an idea to relay messages faster, and I suggest a more advanced version of the dark mark on all of us,” he said, and several people spluttered in surprise, including the teachers.

“And I assume that you got this idea from me scratching my dark mark?” Snape drawled, and Ron nodded in response.

Albus scratched his beard. “It is a good idea, but the problem is that we are yet to figure out how the original dark mark works, and none of us have any intention of using human sacrifice or dark magic, as Voldemort surely did.”

Severus leaned back in his chair, knowing the rest of the conversation would progress, with ideas flying around but in the end being shot down. _The Order really is ineffective. Hopefully, he can make a few changes._

****************

Ronald Black’s POV

 _Oh, never considered it from that angle._ However, Flitwick interrupted just then. “Actually, instead of a mark,” he said, eyes far away, as if thinking about something closely. “We could just have some sort of item enchanted with the protean charm. Like maybe a feather, or better yet, a sickle which would blend in with your possessions.”

Ron found himself marveling at the man’s intelligence, and clapped himself on the back for managing to induct him into the order, even though he himself had no idea what a protean charm even was. “See, this is why I wanted you in the Order, professor!” he said loudly, while also wondering how Dumbledore hadn’t come up with a similar idea previously.

_However, I personally think that a mark looks cooler. Imagine everyone having a phoenix tattoo on their necks._

“So, professor, you cast the enchant all the coins, which I’ll give you once we go back,” he instructed, and Filius nodded while the order stared at him, clearly shocked at how easily he had taken control.

“Next,” he said, turning to the Order once more. “We need to talk about all of your tasks, and your functions. Mr. Weasley, you either seriously need to up your game of Spy, or I’m going to be bringing Percy in as a spy. I’m sure he has a good grasp of occlumency, and also is situated at a higher position,” and the two Weasley children puffed up in anger at the mention of their estranged brother.

“We’re not bringing that traitor in, who I’m sure is currently licking the minister’s boots,” Charlie hissed through gritted teeth, and Ron glared at him.

“Listen here, Charlie,” he said, voice icy. “I couldn’t care less about your opinion, for you have done _absolutely nothing_ for the war effort. I’m sure that Percy will manage to do much more in just a week, and so I’d ask you to keep your trap shut.”

He really didn’t think most of the other Order member’s opinion mattered. To him, they’d already shown time and time again that when they decided something, it ended up having devastating consequences.

“Next, I need all of you to up your dueling skill, and maybe learn the killing curse as well for emergencies,” he said in a commanding voice, causing several eyes, including Albus’s, to widen at what he was telling him. 

“Are you actually ordering us to learn the killing curse?” Shacklebolt asked incredulously.

“Do you think you could even cast such a dark spell?” a short, pudgy fellow scoffed at him from the corner where he was smoking a cigar. _What in the name of Merlin’s saggy left tit is he doing here?_

Ron glared at the two men, before conjuring an image of Lucius Malfoy in his head. Hoping it would work, he fired a killing curse at the wall behind him, and to his surprise, the green beam hit the wall. Though, it caused only a small, circular burn on it, showing that it wasn’t as strong as he’d have hoped.

 _Might not even kill._ He didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved at that tidbit.

There were a few shrieks as the eerie green light illuminated the room, and Ron didn’t miss the way several members had their wands in their hands at once. _Well, at least they have good enough reflexes._

“I’m once again telling you to never question my magical capabilities,” he hissed at them, who were staring at him with wide eyes (all except Moody who was … smirking at him?), in an equal mix of shock and fear. Even the teachers looked shocked, and their eyes asked the silent question of how he learnt these spells, and why the trace hadn’t been activated.

*************

Alastor Moody’s POV

Alastor Moody had been wary of Ronald Black ever since he’d broken his leg with a dark spell, _rumpere,_ to be exact. At the time, he’d cursed himself for his age, and had thanked his luck that he hadn’t him with the permanent version of the spell, _compladeleo_. He’d seen several aurors get hit with one of those, and spend the rest of their lives limping on canes, or in St. Mungos when they were hit in the back.

No wonder there were a total of only 40 aurors in the department, and just 20 in training. No one wanted to be an auror after seeing the damage they went through. And hit – wizards …. In his opinion, hit wizards were idiots who stood no chance in a war.

After his leg had been healed, something which had taken a week, he’d begun thinking about how Black had known the spell, and the only answer he found was sneaking into the restricted section of the library under a disillusionment charm.

Now, Alastor did practice the dark arts, but he knew how dangerous they were, which was why they had to be practiced under supervision, or you got madmen like Voldemort. He’d told Dumbledore about his fears, but he’d just waved him off, telling him that he had read of the spell in some random book and had used it on him out of instinct.

Alastor had been worried, but didn’t say anything, though the issue had remained in the back of his mind. Then, the boy had become Lord Black, a parseltongue, had attained four Slytherin friends (two of whom were associated to death eaters), proved to be an excellent speaker, and his fears had only doubled. But once again, Dumbledore had brushed off his fears, saying that instead of his ‘friends’ corrupting him, they were actually helping him get back from the dark place he’d gone into. _Dark place, ironic._

And then, he’d waltzed into the Order and told them to start killing (he was the only one who knew that Dumbledore, despite telling him that he agreed, would never let it happen. The old man really underestimated how well he knew him), to learn the unforgivables, and had fired a killing curse at the wall. Alastor had watched with a strange sense of victory as Dumbledore’s wrongly placed hope had all come crashing down.

There was no way that he had gotten a wand without the trace, because the only place to do so was at knockturn alley. The killing curse was something that even _he_ struggled with sometimes due to the sheer amount of hate required, and yet, he had fired one at a moment’s notice – albeit a weak one, but still a killing curse all the same.

He could see all the perfect ingredients for a future Dark Lord, a tyrant due to the amount of hate in him. But along with that, he saw _opportunity_. The boy had a clear affinity for dark magic, and if he managed to reign him in, control him, mold him to use dark magic for good … gods, they might be able to turn the tide of the war.

With his influence at Hogwarts, the political scenario, and the country, who knew, he might soon start training the next generation of soldiers against Voldemort. He might even win the war, because no matter what Dumbledore said, compared to Black, Potter had as much chance of defeating Voldemort as a niffler had of defeating a dragon.

And so, as everyone was engrossed by their newest member’s words, he silently put up a silencing ward around him and tapped the tip of his wand to his ear, activating a communicating device his team, a group even Dumbledore didn’t know of, always wore.

“Division Omega. I’ll be coming to training ground with Ronald Black, who’s been shown to be a dark wizard. I want us to train him to be our future weapon against the dark lord. When he comes, analyze him, make him feel at home. If asked why we’re doing this, tell him that we brought him on Bones’s recommendation. Out, Mad - Eye,” and with a thought, the connection was closed from his side.

“Understood. Out, Roberts,” came Jane’s voice, before she too cut off her connection.

He silently removed the ward and turned to Black with a smirk pasted on his face, while his mind ran with how to deal with him. The part about Amelia recommending him was a total lie, as she had only told them about the shield spell he’d shown her. Apart from that, they’d learnt nothing about him, as she said that she preferred to keep the oath she’d sworn to him.

His eyes bore into the side of Blacks’ head. He knew that his idea was a pretty risky one, but if executed properly, it could reduce the total casualty count in the upcoming war drastically, as well as make Dumbledore open his eyes, as the man had grown very attached to the red head. And attachment, was something which could blind even the most vigilant of people.

He just hoped that they didn’t mess this up, or there would be disastrous consequences.

*************

Ronald Black’s POV

“I don’t think my wand has a trace,” he said, answering their silent enquiries. “And I used the curse while dueling those 5 dummies after my ‘prank’. I can only cast the cruciatus and killing curse, though,” he said, and Albus sent him a disappointed, and slightly wary look.

As he looked at the slightly fearful expressions of the Order members, he felt a sense of power wash through him, at making these adults, some of them aurors, fear him. Though … there was something … _hollow_ to that feeling, like it only filled him with satisfaction from the outside.

The feeling scared him, and so he decided to shove it into the back of his mind, a place which was becoming a mental graveyard for him.

He continued. “Next, I also want all of you to master Occlumency in case Voldemort captures you and uses legilimency on you. If you want any help in dueling, you can contact Professor Flitwick, Dumbledore, or Mad – eye.” he ordered them, and this time, all of them nodded.

“Good,” Ron commented, smirking at his authority. “I’ll be coming here in around a month, and I want to see all of you making basic progress in the mind arts and in better shape, especially you, Fletcher, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. And Vance, you look like a very hot – headed person who is easy to anger. Don’t let that anger cloud your judgement, and instead use it to power your magic.”

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his back, and turned to see Albus looking at him with a wary look in his blue eyes, which had lost their twinkle. “Ronald … please tell me you don’t practice the dark arts,” he asked, though it sounded more like he was pleading.

“No, I don’t,” he said, lying through his teeth. “Even using the killing curse makes my …. skin crawl, and hair stand on end. It’s like…just some sick, disgusting feeling inside, and so I don’t really use it unless absolutely necessary, like the demonstration I just gave,” he said, with the appropriate facial expressions and hand movements to make it convincing enough. _Merlin, I’m becoming a good actor, aren’t I?_

Albus stared at him for a good 30 seconds, before finally letting him go with a small, relieved smile gracing his lips. “Well, I can’t really argue your actions with that speech you gave before coming here.”, he said with a small smile, which Ron gladly returned, happy to have the old man’s favour back.

Out of nowhere, someone started clapping, and Ron turned in surprise to see a smirking Moody applauding him, while the other Order members looked on in shock. “Merlin, when Amelia told me you were a menace, I never expected this,” he said, the smirk not dropping, though this was an approving, almost respecting one, instead of the mocking one most Order members knew.

“Bloody hell, the way you took control of these buggers and got them of their lazy arses in 5 minutes, I wish I could have done!” he exclaimed, before getting up from his seat, and heading towards Ron.

“Amelia told me that you would come and show us aurors some new spells, so, you coming, lad?” he asked, and Ron felt his eyes widen in shock, before a chuckle bubbled its way out of his lips.

Just because the scarred auror was treating him respectfully, didn’t mean that he liked him. But if he was willing to make peace, and maybe teach him some stuff as well, then he would do his best to be civil. After all, knowledge was power, and he guarded it selfishly. Any knowledge and Dark Magic was always welcome.

“Well, I told her that I would teach her the spells which she would teach you, but … alright,” he replied, still looking at Mad eye suspiciously, while everyone else gaped at him at the knowledge that he would be teaching the _aurors_ spells.

“So, when can you come over to the ministry?”

“Well, I’m free right now, and school is off, so I can come over right now, if the headmaster gives me permission,” he said, sending a glance to the old man, whose nod answered him. He didn’t notice the discreet nod men the two men exchanged.

Together, the two wizards and practitioners of a handful of dark spells headed into the floo, and Ron cast a disillusionment and silencing charm on his feet before they flooed to the Ministry atrium. There were several hundred witches and wizards scurrying around the place, getting on with their work and errands. Each of them was unique in their own right: some wore pointy hats others wore flamboyant robes. Some were chatting, there was a couple snogging in the corner, and Ron thought he vaguely recognized Rufus Scrimgeour in the corner.

Earlier, he would have never noticed any of this, but now he found himself picking up details, a habit born from hours of dueling, in which he had to constantly eye the dummies in order to see what spell they were about to fire at him silently, his boredom in classes like DADA, and the training exercises which Andy and his friends had recommended. They had said that it would help him in the political arena, and it sure had, in more than that area.

As they walked through the crowd, several people staring at Mad – eye’s scars, he discreetly whispered to him, “Analyzing for any threats, you’ll make a good auror, boy,” he said, and Ron felt a small quirk of his lips at the praise.

In a few minutes, they had arrived at the Auror training facilities, after only one bump with a wizard who had been barked off by Moody. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t stop at the place where the recruits were being trained by some unknown witch. Instead, they went deeper into the labyrinthine place, and the maze of rooms got darker and more foreboding, until they reached a large dueling room with a mahogany floor lit by an unknown light source. Magically.

Inside the room was a collection of 6 intimidating looking scarred aurors, all of them staring right at the spot where he was present under the charm. There were three men and three women, and all seemed to be fitted for battle, what with the dragonskin outfit and wand holsters. It was clear that they had seen battle, and only come out stronger for it.

“When did you cast a _homenum revelio_?” he asked as he removed the charm by tapping his wand on his head once more. A woman with brown hair which fell to her shoulders and a scar running down her left cheek, clearly from a dark curse, who looked like their leader, nodded appreciatively at him.

“So, Amelia wasn’t lying about you. You really are a skilled wizard,” she said, voice carrying a slightly American accent, before she walked forward to him and extended a hand.

“Jane Roberts, Auror trainer,” she introduced, and Ron firmly shook her hand. Once by one, the others too introduced themselves. Moran Thompson was the blonde with her hair only coming to her shoulders. Ivanna Antanov, the least scarred, black haired one, with no accent despite her Russian name. James Morris, bald guy with one finger missing. Xiao Li, Cho’s Cousin and Sue Li’s brother. And Amir Shafiq, nephew of Seth Shafiq.

Ron was surprised to see that a pureblood would be among the ones to catch dark wizards, especially someone related to a self – proclaimed dark arts user, Seth. He also hadn’t known that Cho had such a skilled cousin.

“Actually, my family disowned me just because I killed a death eater with my modified, dark version of the cutting curse,” he said, with a smile, no doubt because of both of them being ‘disowned’, and Ron felt himself beginning to like this group.

All of them were misfits in a sense, and just because they dared to treat all magic as equal. After all, magic couldn’t be defined as evil or good just because they were considered Dark or Light.

In the end, magic was all about intent.

“So,” said Jane Roberts. “I have heard a lot about how good you are at magic, so could you show us by dueling a dummy?” she said, summoning one of the regular dummies, which Ron fought in the RoR, from a darkened corner.

The other aurors snickered, and Ron checked it to find that it was on level 1. He felt familiar anger boil in his gut at being underestimated and slighted. _Calm Down, just use it in a duel against multiple dummies. Show them that you could quite possibly best them if you wanted to._

“Give me 4 of them, and set them to the highest level,” he said with a smirk towards the aurors, who looked surprised, but did it nonetheless.

Discreetly, Moody and Jane activated their listening devices and moved away from the crowd, talking in hushed whispers. “What do you want to do with him? Do you know how much trouble we’ll be in if he blabs, or if someone reads his mind? And he’s a dark wizard, for goodness sake. Shouldn’t we be trying to discourage him from the dark arts.”

“Actually, it’s pretty obvious what he wants to do,” said James, barging into the conversation. “He practices the dark arts, which was why you were initially wary of him, right? But then, he did something which made you see potential in him to change the tide of the war, but only if he stayed cautious with dark magic. Which was why you brought him here, to mould him while we too earn the benefits of the Black Library, am I right?”

“What do you think?” hissed Moody at their strategist, who like always, figured out the plan, and this time without even seeing everything about Black.

“Well then, if that’s the case, Jane – you’ll have to loosen up around him, and Moody, you’ll have to act a bit more like your typical paranoid self. Have to make him feel at home remember? He also clearly has a bit of a bighead which we’ll have to amend, but slowly.”

The whispered assertions into their devices before deactivating them and going back to watch the duel, which would no doubt be interesting.

Ron was confident regarding his victory. His reflexes were near perfect from the months of drilling them into his body, mind, and magic. He’d also tried fighting with only light spells, and could hold his own against three dummies at the second highest level. With dark spells, he could do so with 4 on the highest level. For now, he would show off a bit of his cruelty towards his opponents as well.

“On my count, start fighting,” said Roberts. “3 – 2 – 1 – GO!” She didn’t notice, that while she’d been counting, Ron had discreetly applied an ear – plug charm on his ears, which could be removed with just a thought. While it wouldn’t deafen him, it would stop his eardrums from bursting with his opening spell.

In less than a second, Ron had conjured 7 shields in front of him, and four of them exploded from blasting curses coming his way.

With sharp jab, he threw a ball of condensed sound right in the area before him, where it detonated, releasing a powerful shockwave which caused the dummies to take a wobbly step back. Ron was not affected at all, while the aurors managed to erect some strange shields even before the hissed incantation left his lips.

Deciding that it was time to display some powerful offensive magic, he sent all of his sharpened shields to attack his opponents. Only one of them made contact, and straight up decapitated a dummy.

He easily dodged a stunner and two severing hexes, all of which made contact with the wall behind him, before three snakes were released from his wand, two of them heading for the dummy on the left, one on the right. The two snakes on the right were destroyed with a gust of strong wind, while the dummy on the right attempted to dodge, but failed due to Ron hissing at the snake to strangle the dummy by going to its left. The movements came to him as easily as breathing now, and he sometimes felt like instead of new duels, he was just going through drills.

While the one was left trying to stop the snake from destroying it, Ron turned to the other two and participated in an exchange of spells. Bright flashes, dodges, along with several explosions filled the room as the three exchanged increasingly powerful spells.

Suddenly, in an impressive display of speed, Ron managed to overwhelm one with a 5 – spell chain which lasted all of three seconds, but ended with it being destroyed by an entrail – expelling curse. Suddenly, Ron felt a whoosh near him, and managed to deflect an overpowered bludgeoning hex heading his way with a shield, which no doubt would have destroyed his right leg otherwise.

Turning to the other dummy, he decided to try a spell he hadn’t still perfected in a duel. In a split second, Ron had brought his wand right in front of his lips, the tip facing his opponent. With a whispered _‘Hydra Peredo’,_ he blew air through his mouth, turning in an arc, and toxic green acid sprayed out of his wand, absorbing the blasting curse sent his way.

The dummy managed to erect a shield, but the acid just ate through it, before dropping on its chest, dissolving it in a steaming puddle of acid. However, Ron’s victory was short lived, as he suddenly felt a cutting curse hit the back of his thigh, deep enough to draw blood, and causing him to hiss in pain.

What Ron hadn’t noticed during his duel was that the aurors, impressed at his strength and speed, had repaired the fourth dummy, and set it to a lower grade of a self – developed ‘dark auror’ difficulty, which was quite hard to pass.

Growling in anger, Ron turned to the now reanimated last dummy, which looked much more dangerous than previously. Glaring at the new challenge, he met it head on, with a long, ethereal sword which he had generated from his wand.

With a roar, he charged at his enemy, which threw two dark spells at him, one which hit him in the shoulder causing boils to erupt, while the other he deflected with his sword, which he could feel weaken in his hold. He slashed at his enemy, who dodged it, before surprising him by disillusioning itself.

In his surprise, he didn’t see the shield heading his way, until it was too late, and he thought he felt a bone crack under the impact. _FUCK IT!_ he thought as he bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood in order to stop a strangled scream from escaping his throat.

The time for games was over. This dummy would die.

Taking care not to put too much pressure on his left leg, the redhead cast a _finite_ over the entire place with a wide arc, revealing the dummy, and threw a blasting curse at the ground, after which he threw the debris towards the doll, transfiguring it into nails. In return, the dummy simply turned his attack on his head by throwing them towards him. Ron’s eyes widened in shock, and he was only saved by his instincts as he conjured up an exceptionally large shield, protecting him from all the projectiles apart from three which dug painfully into his stomach and chest. The shield broke under the strain, and Ron engaged in another round of spellfire.

The exchange continued for a minute, the spells from both sides getting darker and more dangerous, and Ron found himself marveling at how the dummy managed to block some of his killing curses with its wand. _I have to learn how to do that_ , he noted in the back of his mind, but now he had to kill it.

Suddenly, he saw his perfect opportunity as the dummy turned on an angle, slipping on the ice Ron had covered the floor with using a _‘Glacius’_. Quickly, he fired off a distraction _rumpere_ , before casting his modified bone healing spell on the dummy’s now exposed left leg.

This was the greatest advantage of using this spell. There was no huge flash of light or beam to indicate that it had even been cast. The only signal was a small blink of light from the wand tip, and then came the results.

This turned out to be the dummy’s fall, as it had neglected to block its leg, and his spell showed results. Ron watched with sick fascination, as all the internal support within the dummy’s leg disappeared, and the leg broke under the doll’s weight, empty from the inside.

With another slash, the dummy found its wand arm cut off, and Ron ended the duel with his favourite variation of the bone breaking range. Ron’s final spell took effect, and the dummy’s internal metal ribcage snapped, before it poked out of its chest in a grotesque fashion, looking like something straight out of a nightmare, even without the blood.

And with that, Ron had won the duel.

He finally let a wave of pain wash over him, and had to lie down on his back to stop the pain in his entire body. _Merlin…someone must have modified the last dummy. There’s no way that that is the same one which I took out with just one snake._

Hastily, he took in a small sip of the internal bleeding potion which Pomfrey had told him to keep on him whenever he went dueling. While it was nearly useless against serious bleeding and burns, in this case it would do the job. Suddenly, he felt someone healing his injuries, and Ron looked up to see Antonov healing him, and Chang’s face right in front of him.

“Hold on, this will hurt,” he said, and Ron didn’t even get a chance to react before red engulfed his vision, and unconsciousness took him over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up, this one quicker than before! So, Ron's made a few new auror friends, and has become an Order member. To be honest, this chapter is more of a Part -1 of the entire chapter, because it was approaching 25K words and I needed to split it, causing the abrupt end. But don't worry, the next one will also have a lot more changes.  
> Fic of the Day:  
> A different kind of magic by Seastar91  
> Grindeldore ship, epic. Dunno if it's just me, but I genuinely enjoy the pairing.  
> As always, Reviews, comments, and kudos are always welcome!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I don't own Harry Potter and don't intend to make any money out of it.
> 
> Whew, finally got away from schoolwork. Sry for the late update!  
> I couldn't figure out how to make a lot of changes to this chapter, so instead I have a a lot of changes planned for the later chapters in which I will try to focus more on Ron's character. Also, the next chapter also has a few changes (about two - thirds the way in)  
> Also, a reviewer informed me that they felt that Ron felt like a similar guy from Fate (go check that fic out), and he was being downright evil during the blood ritual. Well, you are sorta correct as he would react in a similar way to that Ron, but there's a couple of differences - main one being that this Ron is way darker, and yes, can be downright evil at times, and generally is ... he kind of doesn't like the idea of love. Fate Ron was super helpful to others, and would aid them without a second thought, but this Ron will falter before helping, and he will not be as trusting.
> 
> As always, all criticism and reviews are welcome.

Chapter 13: Aurors and Rituals

Jane Roberts POV

As Madame Jane Roberts stared at the 15 – year – old boy who was lying on the ground, unconscious, while being treated by Ivanna, she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him to make him into the person he was now.

Madam Jane Roberts wasn’t feared by all the recruits for no reason at all. She was a very strict teacher, and would whip your ass if you didn’t comply by her. But in the end, the students who came out from her tutelage were some of the best aurors in Europe, if not the world.

She was a person who’d seen war. She’d killed exactly 362 people, and she remembered all of their faces. She’d had comrades, friends, die in her arms, and she remembered all of them. She’d been through not one, but two wars – the first in America, from where she was originally from.

She’d also killed her own sister, who had been one of the dark lord’s most fanatic followers, despite being only a half blood. Due to Jane’s cowardice, her student had jumped in front of a killing curse for her, one which had come from her own sister. Five minutes later, her sister’s corpse had flown and landed straight at Voldemort’s feet, and that monster had simply kicked it away like trash, before going on to release fiendfyre over their ranks, killing 40 aurors in a single minute.

That one event had played an important role in molding her into who she was now.

However, in all her years, she’d never seen someone like the teenager who she was watching right now. When Alastor had contacted her, she’d been skeptical about him despite Amelia telling them that he was indeed powerful. But her questions had been answered swiftly and effectively. This 15 – year – old had defeated 4 dummies which were set on level 4, before destroying a dark auror with a spell she suspected he’d made on his own. He’d powered through the pain of a hairline fracture, a dark cutting hex which would scar him for life, needles buried in his chest and had still won.

His reflexes were surprisingly quick for a teenager, and Jane knew that he had drilled them into his body through an astounding amount of repeated practice, and though others might think it admirable, she knew that it was due to something bordering an obsession with improving himself – something neither admirable nor healthy. The pale tincture of his skin proved her point, as she could easily identify it as the skin tone of someone who hasn’t been outside in ages.

_It’s a good thing that Alastor brought him here. He would have either killed himself or destroyed the world at the rate he’s going._

“It appears that you weren’t lying, Mad – eye. Merlin … I’ve never even seen that last spell he used, and the way he cut that dummy in half, brutal,” Xiao said, nodding at the one - legged auror.

“He looks like how Xiao looked like when Aamir carried him here after a duel,” stated Jane. “Clear signs of obsession with improving himself, like you had.”

“To be honest,” protested her fellow auror. “When I came here, I looked like a discount inferi, while he looks … pretty fit, in fact. And even after that, I spent years on the street, while this guy is in Hogwarts … under Dumbledore’s protection as well.”

“And yet, he managed to practice the dark arts, and even create his own dark spell,” said Aamir.

“Actually,” called Ivanna, moving her wand over the redhead’s face. “Jane’s right.”

She drew in a sharp intake of breath as a layer of weak glamours fell off from his face, revealing his true appearance. His skin was even paler than normal, there were quite a few scars on his face and arms, including one which looked suspiciously like a blood quill scar. His freckles stood out in stark contrast … but for some reason, his hair never lost any of their life. _He’s performed a lot of Dark magic._

“He also drank a potion to heal internal bleeding,” she added, and Moran, who’d been quiet the entire while, turned to her with wide eyes, understandably. After all, she had lost one of her friends because he’d refused to tell anyone that he was epileptic, and had ended up charging straight into spell fire to save her life.

“In that case, there’s no way that we’re training him, war or not,” she said firmly.

“Oh, come one, Moran!” said James. “I – I understand what happened with Jaime was horrible, but this guy here is possibly an aspiring dark lord, or could win us the war. Would you rather we take a risk, or let the country go to hell?”

“And you’d put the life of a 15 – year – old on the line for that, no matter how dark he is?” said Ivanna sharply.

“Iva … his life is already on the line due to the dark magic is performing, and due to his show at the Wizengamot. We’re going to help him to not lose control over dark magic. Would you like another Voldemort or Grindelwald?” she asked. She knew it was a low blow to bring up Grindelwald, but gods could her lover be stubborn at times. And Voldemort … they’d known he was back since Alastor had come back after his ‘teaching’ at Hogwarts.

She faltered at that, and appeared to be considering her words, logic trying to override her healer instincts. “Alright,” she finally conceded, and Jae smiled tightly at her, when a sudden groan came from the unconscious boy.

“Wh – what the hell?” were the first words out of his mouth, and all the aurors instantly had their masks back on.

“Shh! Lie down! I still have to clean the wounds the nails left in your chest!” hissed Ivanna, pushing him down and casting a few numbing charms over his chest, while also putting him to sleep. The process of cleaning and healing pierce wounds was painful and usually took around half an hour.

Suddenly, there was a gasp from Ivanna as she removed Black’s robes, exposing his chest causing the aurors’ (except Moody’s) eyes to widen at the number of scars across his body. “What the hell!” exclaimed Xiao as he took in the scars, no doubt reminded of the similar scars he had on his back.

“Doesn’t he ever heal himself after training?” asked Ivanna.

Alastor was peering at the scars calculatingly, before his eyes reflected understanding. “Apparently not,” he said. “He showed us these scars at an Order Meeting, but told us that they were from death eaters, which was obviously a lie. The only way I can think of him getting these are … essentially self – harm.”

“Great, no we have a suicidal aspiring dark lord on our hands, whom we have to mold into a soldier for the ‘light’,” groaned Moran. “Tell me, how much did you even hurt him to make him end up like he is now?”

“How could I have known at the time that that idiot would become this fellow?” Alastor snarled back in response, and Jane knew she had to intervene before they descended into a full – blown argument. Alastor had always been the most ruthless of them, and had the highest kill count in the war. Though, no one knew of those he’d killed because the ministry only publicized the names of about 40% of the death eaters defeated in the first war.

A fight between his ruthlessness, and Ivanna’s healer instincts was something which no one would enjoy. “You know, I think both of you should calm down. What’s done is done, and we cannot do anything to turn back time. Instead, if you want to prevent another reign of terror, then we’ll have to work on him.”

“That’s considering he isn’t killed by one of the dark lord’s death eaters before the year ends,” said Xiao.

“Shut up, Xiao. Now, what all areas do we have to change him in?” said Aamir, coming forward from the shadows.

The spent the next 30 minutes discussing his personality, the places he would have to change, and how to keep him alive until the war began in earnest, while Ivanna worked on the red-haired boy.

In the end, they came up with the following conclusions from what they’d seen and heard of him: He’d need to deflate his ego a bit, or it’d lead to complications. He surely was good, but nowhere near enough to fight a full – fledged death eater … though he might come close to fighting a lower death eater while using dark magic, which was why they’d have to start training him in basic auror techniques like spell sensing, standard and complex chains, battle strategies, but those were secondary in comparison to the need to monitor his practicing of dark magic. Which was why James had come up with the idea of giving him a glamour ring with a hidden tracking charm in it on his next visit to them.

Soon, he woke up again this time the first words out of his mouth were, “Alright, what the hell was wrong with that last dummy?”

“First, tell us why you had to drink a healing potion just before you fell unconscious?” she asked as Ivanna slowly helped him up.

“Oh, that,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, my magic is just … weird. Like, when I perform it while angry, it ends up hurting me as well.”

“And you’ve told no one about it?”

“Well, Professor Dumbledore knows, and gave me this potion and told me to refrain from using too much magic until he found out what caused it,” he replied smoothly and she nodded.

“Now, will you also tell us why you look like a skeleton?” asked Aamir, voice soft as always.

“I don’t look like a skelet – oh,” he said, cutting himself off when a conjured mirror appeared before him, reflecting his visage back to him.

“Now, why on earth did you remove the glamours which I spent so much time working on?” he snarled, but the others simply glared at him.

“I can recognize burning out and obsession when I see it,” Ivanna hissed. “At the rate at which you’re going, you’ll end up killing yourself in a few months!”

“And what the bloody hell is burn out?”

“Burning yourself out, is when you use your magic so much that you almost … run out of magic. There’ve been recorded instances of people who ended up having to take month long breaks in order to recharge their cores, and some even lost their magic!” explained Moran.

Ron’s eyes widened in fear at the very thought of losing his magic, because a life without magic was something he didn’t even want to – couldn’t imagine. It would be like eating without any flavor, quidditch without flying, or jokes without laughter. Shite. I really need to take care of my magic.

“Alright, alright!” he said, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “Look, I won’t stop practicing a lot, so don’t expect me to just stop using magic at all. But fine, I will try and take more care of myself.”

“Consume more carbs and sugar, exercise your body physically and mentally as well, and always take regular breaks, you understand!” barked Ivanna, and Ron could only whimper out a ‘Yes’ while faced with the irate (and terrifying) witch.

“And finally, why do you have so many scars on your chest? Have you not been healing yourself after your training?” asked Xiao, and by his tone, Jane couldn’t say whether he was giving the boy the impression of caring for him, or if he actually did care for Black.

But whatever it was, it seemed to be working, because despite the scowl on his face, the way his eyes brightened at the show of worry was genuine. For a moment, Jane felt a pang of guilt for manipulating a child, but one look at the others was all it took to squash it down.

This was war, and at the rate they were going, half of Magical Britain would die before Voldemort was taken down. Especially due to the shortage of aurors after the first war, the lack of action on Fudge’s part, and the hit – wizards never really training despite the several warnings. Which was why, they needed to take every opportunity handed to them.

“So, now that my health has been taken care of, can you tell me what was wrong with the last dummy?” he demanded hotly. “Because there’s no way that that one was the same dummy, I took out a few seconds before with a single spell.”

James smirked at him before answering. “Well, we might just have increased the difficulty to a level which we developed on our own, called the dark auror. And even then, the difficult you faced was a weak one.”

He rubbed his face, not believing how a dummy had become so powerful, and how it had so nearly trounced him. “Shit,” he cursed. “And how many of these can you take down?”

“Well, the one you fought … around three or four of them,” said Roberts and Ron gaped at her in shock. “But we’ll talk about the dummies later. For now, I think that we should negotiate the conditions of our deal.”

“Since we’ll be teaching you how to keep yourself alive, we want something in return as well. More specifically, we want you to offer us magic from the Black Library, and any useful weapons for the war that you own as well,” said Aamir and Ron stared at him, thinking about he would be able to keep a balance between the two sides of the deal.

“I want you to join the Order then,” he returned, taking care to mind his words. _When making a negotiation, stay calm, and try to get the best out of it,_ his mind supplying, quoting Blaise’s words.

“No,” said Jane at once. “We’re not joining the Order of The Phoenix, no matter what you say. We won’t be able to perform the Dark Arts with them, and then Dumbledore isn’t someone any of us especially trust. It’s honestly a miracle that Mad – Eye has been able to keep his being a practice of the dark arts, and our existence, a secret for so long.”

Ron frowned at her, but could understand where she was coming from, though she disagreed with her about Albus. “Well then, I won’t be giving you any weapons. I’d like this to be an equal deal on both our sides,” he said after a moment.

They eyed him for a few moments, before finally nodding. “Deal. Though, we’ll also need you to swear never to let anyone else know of our existence, and to try your best to protect the knowledge in case someone’s trying to force it out of you.”

She handed a knife to him, and Ron quickly swore the blood oath with wording which Aamir provided. It didn’t miss his notice that they seemed especially tense while he’d been swearing the oath, which was understandable. They probably suspected him of attempting to fake the oath by manually generating the pulse of magic, a feat which only powerful of wizards … or those who’d performed a _certain_ blood ritual could do.

“Why do even care about the Order, especially after all they did to you?” asked Moran idly as Ron healed the cuts on his hand (now that he observed his arms, there were quite a few scars on them, straight and white from countless cutting curses), before sending a glare at Moody who just sneered at her.

“Because professor Dumbledore is its leader, and I’d trust him with my life,” he said, though it was clear by his tone that there was more to the story.

“And?”

“And … I don’t really care about the Order,” he said, almost offhandedly. “They’re mostly just tools for this war, after which I’ll … ah, _dispose_ of them.”

“Murder them, you mean?” whispered James with wide eyes as Ivanna shot a troubled look towards Jane, who just stared intently at the boy – _no,_ man. This was the first time that she’d properly gotten to see his eyes, and those were by no means the eyes of a teenager.

They looked the way the eyes of war survivors looked. Like they’d once been filled with the joys of youth, with laughter and cold spring air caressing your face, before something dark, _malevolent_ had ripped it all away, leaving them a shell of the person they once were.

And yet, in a dark part of her mind, a voice screamed at her that at that moment, she was comparing him to the wrong person, He wasn’t a victim of the war, he was the one who’d caused the war, who’d killed for amusement.

“Huh, no! I won’t kill them!” he corrected, looking like he was only mildly surprised. “I’ll reduce them to the lowest filth of society, shatter their souls and hearts, and leave them a shell of what they once were.”

Ron wasn’t exactly telling the truth though. He had sought vengeance, but _killing_ the Order had never really been too strong of an idea. For some reason, he’d found that the anger he felt towards the Order members was miniscule in comparison to that he felt for the Weasleys and his ex – friends. Maybe it was because the Order had never really known him, and even he, in the coldest parts of his mind, understood that they’d only acted rationally. The ones he’d cared for though … no, that was a completely different matter, and every part of his mind wanted vengeance.

 _Vengeance,_ thought Jane … it was a powerful motivator, but only when used properly and cautiously. If you lost yourself in it, you’d end up insane, like a rabid dog which needed to be put down. She herself had had personal vengeance on a few of her enemies, but she had given them exactly what they’d done to her family. They’d killed her parents, and so she’d killed them – quick and clean.

None of them ever resorted to torture, even if the ones they were avenging had been put under the worst sort of it. Torture … it was something which slowly corrupted you, until you got lost in the darkest parts of yourself, and were unable to come back. She’d be the first to admit, she didn’t exactly have the best moral code, but she still never stooped as low as things like mental, sexual, or physical torture, or worse things.

Seeing a 15 – year – old planning mental torture, and openly claiming that he’d already done it … it was disturbing, and it was worrying – almost psychopathic, one might say. He needed to be stopped, but there was the part of her which couldn’t help but ask -

_What happened to him – it was bad, I admit, but such a dark reaction? I’ve seen people lose their loved ones to death eaters, and yet give the same monsters a chance at forgiveness._

As if hearing their thoughts, he answered them softly, in a melancholy, almost teary voice. “I – I don’t think I will ever be able to cast a Patronus charm. I don’t even think I … remember what true, complete love feels like,” he said, and Jane understood his meaning immediately.

Moran had learnt this from her days as an unspeakable, but apparently, when a person underwent severe trauma of some sort, their mind created subconscious, unbreakable occlumency walls which hid away the hurting part, often forever. That had been what happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom, two people whom Jane had once known personally. Due to the torture inflicted by Bellatrix Lestrange, their minds and magic had hidden away their consciousness behind walls, never to see the daylight again.

When she had found out that the Unspeakables had been doing experiments on them, she had nearly burnt down the entire accursed place in order to rescue them. They had already faced enough torture, and didn’t need anymore.

She herself might have gone into a similar vegetative state, but had had occlumency, along with these 6 reliable friends to fall onto. They had cared for her, made her feel loved, and a month later, she could cast a Patronus again, which was now the form of a horse, _her_ sister’s, not the death eater’s, favorite animal.

This boy on the other hand … he’d had no occlumency, he had lived for over a month without feeling a love, because he’d been betrayed, and thought that everyone he loved chose not to love him of their own free will. No foul play involved.

Along with that, he also was a practitioner of the dark arts, and his magic was an anomaly in its own right. All these factors combined … Gods, she didn’t even want to think about a life where she wouldn’t have her wonderful friends with her. Where she wouldn’t feel any joy as they fought side by side on the battlefield, or as she held her Ivanna’s body close to her after a passionate night of lovemaking.

She knew that he was quite possibly just lying, manipulating them in order to earn their pity, and there was a large chance of it being the truth. And yet, the tone of his voice, the evidence … her mind was torn in two.

And so, acting solely on instinct, she swept forward and offered him words of comfort. Ivanna hugged him (she was the only one of them comfortable with physical contact), Jane and Moran placed comforting hands on her shoulders, and the men offered …. manly words.

Only Alastor Moody got a clear view the predatorial glint in Ron’s eyes as he stared at him in the eye, before it disappeared. He himself felt conflicted in the deeper parts of his mind, but the larger part of him was the one which looked Aamir in the eye, and a sharp nod conveyed all he wanted to know.

They didn’t trust him, but were doing this in order to make him feel at home and smother his … _darker_ side. He knew that he was manipulating a child, and that Ivanna and Moran would come after him, but they hadn’t seen what he was capable, they hadn’t seen the way there was a black beast within him, crawling and clawing at his insides, just desperate to come out and wreak havoc on the world. They hadn’t seen how it had deflected his stunner without the red head’s knowledge, and if he came to control it … he didn’t know what would happen.

***********

Ronald Black’s POV

Ron too couldn’t deny that their warm, comforting hands and words made his heart warm, as the feeling of being cared for spread through him, but he squashed it down quickly. It wouldn’t do to get too attached to one person this quickly. Yes, he would permit himself to care for them, something which he already found himself doing, but he would take his time. After all, these were people who had killed others, deadly aurors and dark wizards, and he had to be careful around them.

A few moments later, with a bit of coaxing, Ron managed to get them off of him, and turned to them, full business mode. “So,” he said, looking at his watch. “I can stay here for about three hours, after which I have to go do some research on new spells. Let’s see how much you’ve learnt about the multi shield spell,” he said, using the same annoyed, yet fond tone he used during dueling classes.

In fact, teaching was one thing he found was almost …. therapeutic. While Arithmancy made his mind whir with possibilities, and dueling made him forget his worries in a whirlwind of magic, pain, speed, sweat, blood, and power, teaching was something totally different.

He could compare it to reading for Hermione and Quidditch for Harry. Taking care of plants for Theo, listening to muggle music for Tracey, playing with words around people for Blaise, and showing only masks to the outside world for Daphne. It was a drug which they could lose themselves in.

Teaching was a slow, peaceful process, during which Ron simply got lost in the joy of seeing the results of _his_ hard work paying off in the form of somebody he taught succeeding. During it, he could simply forget all his worries and be who he was before his … transformation.

Previously, he was a person who liked to care for people (he wasn’t exceptionally good at it, but the rare smile he got from his friends was sure worth it), and McGonagall had even seen his wand once and told him the he might make a good healer. He had considered it for a while, thinking about how good the smiles on the faces of his patients would seem, before he pushed it down, telling himself that a healer was useless in a war, and what was needed was fighters. But the healer side of him was dead now, totally incompatible with the darkness within him.

And so, he turned to teaching, during which he could be strict, funny, relaxed, and learn new stuff, and see those _smiles,_ all at the same time. He was pretty patient, from the amount of time he spent mastering spells, so that wasn’t a problem anymore. Granted, he did occasionally get mad at someone for being too slow, but it wasn’t the type of mad which had his magic crackling around him angrily. It was the type of mad during his and Hermione’s bickering of old days. It was quick to pass, and not too harmful to anyone.

In fact, he enjoyed teaching so much, that Albus occasionally called him during free lessons to teach first years. It also didn’t escape Ron’s notice his notice, that Harry was getting pretty good at one – on – one dueling, and was also being called to teach, but for once, Ron didn’t mind the green – eyed boy’s presence. Too much, that was. Sometimes, with the younger ones, it was better to have two teachers, or Ron might explode in irritation at times.

He was not a teacher like Potter. Potter was a very gentle teacher, and he took way longer to get results. He also didn’t try out new styles, and instead preferred one on one tutoring. Ron too preferred to teach a maximum of 15 people at a time, but he was a harsher teacher (that didn’t mean he hit them or anything. He just was stricter, but still made them laugh a lot). He pushed them to their limits, just like he had done to himself (but milder), used innovative methods he used on himself, but he generated faster results. In fact, in the dueling rounds at the end of each class, the students he taught fared much better than Potter’s, but came out a lot more serious and … _soldier – like_ than Potter’s. When he trained someone, he made sure to whip them into someone who would survive the war, and carry their loved ones through it as well.

Anyways, back to the training. The aurors raised an eyebrow at his tone. But with the perfect wand movements and whispered incantations, had two shields popped up in the air above them.

Ron cocked an eyebrow in surprise at how quickly they had come so far. He himself had had to tap into his emotions to get the shields so quickly, and even then, moving them was difficult, not to mention, creating them itself left him very exhausted. _Well, they’re not the best Aurors in the department for no reason._

“Move them around,” he ordered, and the Aurors’ faces scrunched up in concentration. Only Jane and Moody managed to move them around, but that too only for thirty seconds. Still twenty seconds more than Ron in his first few tries.

Once Ron vanished the shields, he nodded appreciatively at his students. “Good. I myself could only move them for 25 seconds on my first try,” he said, lying towards the end. He didn’t do so in order to portray himself as a genius, but only because it would make them frustrated and angry. He had found that the shields came faster when angry.

“For some reason, I find that hard to believe,” said James dryly. “I don’t care how good you are, but it took even us an entire day of practice to get them right. And even then, we have had a bit of experience with this spell because of wizard we captured a couple of weeks ago. Pity he killed himself before we could snatch the incantation.”

Ron scowled at them, but didn’t say anything. These guys were just way too suspicious and paranoid for him.

15 more minutes of taunts, encouragements, mini – lectures, and jokes later, they managed to move the shields around for 45 seconds, but Ron noticed that they were trying to stay calm during the wand movement, focusing on doing them perfectly instead of the intent.

“Stop! Stop!” he said, waving his hands around, and all four stopped, looking at him curiously. “All of you are concentrating on staying calm and doing the motions perfectly!” he said.

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. Or our teachers were idiots,” Moran commented, drawing snickers from them, and Ron too felt a smile threatening to break his serious façade.

“Yes, your teachers were total idiots,” he said, causing open laughter, loud and guffawing. “Look, instead of staying calm, think of the person you hate the most in the world, alright? Close your eyes, and try and focus the anger on them,” he said, and his protégés did as he said, though they looked really confused.

Jane did not get where Ron was going with this. Staying angry while dueling or casting lead to catastrophes. That was the first lesson they learnt in Auror academy, and even school.

“But that can’t possibly lead to good results. You’ll just end up losing your preciseness and accuracy in exchange for power, which isn’t a good idea,” said Moran, voicing her concerns.

Ron blinked at her, thinking back to the times he unleashed his emotions completely, which wasn’t _that_ common. He only did it in his duels with Albus, and about … once or twice a day due to how exhausted it left him. But he’d never really noticed too much of a decrease in speed, though his accuracy sure did decrease a bit.

“Er – then only use it for now, and not in an actual fight,” he said. They eyed him curiously, but decided to give it a shot.

A few moments of consideration later, she settled on imagining the faces of Fudge, Voldemort, Draven and the pink toad in her mind, four people she despised greatly. Using her occlumency, she focused on channeling her anger and hate at these three people.

About a minute later, she made to open her eyes, confident that her anger had reached the peak, but Ron stopped them with a few words. “No! That is not enough!”, he scolded, clearly a tad annoyed, but amused as well. “You have to feel your magic becoming like a storm just beneath your skin, eager to be let out and cause destruction,” he said, as if narrating a poem. “You want to feel your blood boil, and even attain accidental magic if possible.”

“You need to have the intent to harm the person, anything, in fact. Let your magic run wild, don’t restrain it at all. Just listen to me, I know that you are used to being hidden behind occlumency shields, but listen to me this once. I’ll tell you when you’re ready, alright? Now keep your eyes closed, and concentrate.”

Ok, now Jane was very curious as to where he was going with his training method. In all her years she had never seen anything like this, which seemed to be a recurring theme with Ronald Black. Every method of magical learning focused on staying calm, being in tune with your body and magic, and here he was, telling them to do the exact opposite.

She also was a bit afraid of doing as he said. The last time she’d experienced accidental magic was during the duel in which she killed her sister. It had almost hurt her own fellow aurors, and had caused her to attain dangerous levels of magical exhaustion.

Nonetheless, she did as he said, closed her eyes, and lowered her occlumency shields holding back her magic and feelings.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there, standing with her eyes shut, her breathing slowly becoming more rapid as the anger grew within her. Occasionally, there were words of encouragement from Ron. “Yes … make up a scene of, say, brutally hurting and killing one of the people with this spell. Good.”

Finally, when she thought that she heard a snap behind her, though from whose accidental magic she couldn’t tell, Ron ordered them to open her eyes quickly, not slowly like while meditating.

When she opened her eyes, she knew that she wanted to hurt someone, something badly due to the anger coursing through her. Though there was no accidental magic, like Ron usually attained, the blazing look in her eyes made it clear that she’d reached her limit.

“Good, now do the spell. Don’t worry about movements or pronunciation. Just focus on intent, and hurl the shields towards me. Imagine those people whom you hate, and picture them hurting your loved ones.”

At the thought of losing her family, which was the seven aurors on her side, she saw red, and without thought, had performed the incantation, and 24 shields were flying towards Ron, most of them intent on hurting him.

Ron’s eyes widened in shock and fear, and he had to cast a _‘protego totalis’_ , in order to stop them from killing him. To his pleasure, the aurors didn’t stop at the first assault, and drew back the shields, before throwing them at him again. This time, Ron destroyed 7 of them with his own shields, before blocking again.

Once more, the shields were drawn back, but Ron managed to fire a Lumos Solem at the three middle aurors, blinding them temporarily, ad drawing them out of their rage induced stupor. Again, Ron had to block and destroy some of the shields coming his way, but this time, he found himself hit on the stomach by once, knocking all the air out of him, and throwing him a few feet back.

He just barely managed to dodge 7 shields by ducking, before destroying four with a spray of acid, but couldn’t stop the other three which pummeled him until he vanished the discs. Hearing the whirr behind him, he cast one more _protego totalis_ , and managed to dispel the last shields, but not before one got past and hit him on the cheekbone, causing a stinging wound.

Ignoring the sting, he hit the last few aurors with a shockwave, throwing them onto the ground, before they could cause any more damage to him. Suddenly, he felt a cutter clip him on the side, and spun around to see Moody looking at him with wide eyes, his wand pointing at him. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, a disarmer hit him and he flew through the air and landed on his arse a few feet behind, but still managed to erect a shield, silently thanking the blood magic on his wand hand, despite how much the runes were hurting right then.

The two just stood there for a few moments, staring at each other, until they slowly lowered their wands in unison, though Moody’s magical eye never left him, and even his wand arm seemed to be coiled to react at a moment’s notice. It didn’t miss Ron’s notice, that even while their wands had been pointed at each other, Moody’s one had been much closer to him, and had even had some magic humming at its tip.

“Each of you produced four shields, and managed to move them for …. One and a half minutes. Also, I think I need someone to heal my stomach. Actually, they need to heal my entire body,” he said, ripping his eyes from the electric blue eye of Moody.

“Gods ...” breathed Xiao from somewhere to the side.

“Oh,” he said suddenly. “I forgot to tell you that you should probably rest for around … 30 minutes. This method leads to severe magical exhaustion.”

“But then what is the use of this method?” asked Alastor.

“This is pretty much only for emergencies, or for rapid learning of offensive and dark spells,” he explained. “This method puts a lot of strain on your body, but if you use it repeatedly, it increases the size of your core. Then, it becomes much easier to cast the spell powerfully and properly without tapping into your emotions.”

“Any long term impacts?” she asked.

He seemed a bit taken aback by this question, and thought about it for a few moments before answering. “Well, I don’t really know. It might reduce your lifespan by a couple of years, depending on how much your magic depends on your emotions, or it might just cause you to be ill a few times. But in the end, it’s all worth it in my opinion.”

“Pray, how on earth is losing 10 years of your life worth it?”, asked Aamir, though Jane knew, after spending years with him, that it was a test of sorts. Black answered without a moment’s hesitation, his voice carrying no hesitancy at all.

“Depends on perspective. For a coward, or a person who doesn’t care much for power, it wouldn’t be worth it,” he said.

“For me, a very power – hungry person, who also wants to protect people he cares for, like Percy, my friends, and my sister, it’s perfectly worth it. And then, there’s aurors like you.”

“Say, if you could save 15 people by having learnt a spell within a week, but it _might_ just cost you a few years of your lives. Would you do it? Yes, any true auror would have done it. Because, in the end, it is for the Greater Good.”

Jane’s eyes narrowed at his usage of ‘The Greater Good’ towards the end of his small rant. His voice was determined, passionate about what he was speaking, and Jane couldn’t help but agree with his answer. If she could have saved even one person with a spell which she learnt with this method, she would have done it in a heartbeat.

“You used Grindelwald’s slogan towards the end of your speech,” Ivanna said accusingly, not being swayed by his words, but Jane couldn’t blame her lover for it. After all, Gellert Grindelwald had personally killed Ivanna’s grandmother in the name of the greater good.

Ron nodded in response, not at all slighted. “Yes, I did, and I don’t blame you for being angry with me for it. Half of Europe has a bad past with Grindelwald, and I assume you do too?”

Ivanna hummed a yes.

Ron continued. “Grindelwald, in my opinion, never understood the meaning of his own slogan. Killing millions of innocents in the name of a solely wizard ruled world is _not_ for the greater good. The Greater Good, refers to self – sacrifice, and that includes things like performing magic which damages you, harms you. Not killing of innocents or just jumping in front of a killing curse.”

“Tell me, all of you practice the dark arts, and I’m sure that a lot of the society scorns you for it, but yet you practice them. Why? Just because they could spare more lives. This, in my opinion, is what the Greater Good refers to, not what Grindelwald did with this noble idea. It refers to sacrificing more than your life to save others. Not just jumping in front of a killing curse, but sacrificing your friendship, your joy, the respect others have for you … _your humanity,_ to save others.”

By Ivanna’s expression, it was clear that she had been befuddled, her beliefs turned on her head. Thinking of the Greater Good as a noble idea had never crossed her mind, and yet, this teenager had told her that she herself was an active believer in it.

No wonder he had been dubbed by the lords of the dark faction as the ‘Master Manipulator’, and by the minister (i.e., his toad), as a ‘Silver Tongued liar’. Amongst the ministry officials and aurors who were against him and his efforts to make them understand that the dark lord was back (of whom there was a surprisingly large number), they called him ‘Grindelwald Reborn’, no doubt reminded of how Grindelwald swayed such a huge part of magical Europe’s population in his favour, the most notorious event being his speech at Lestrange amphitheater, and that was discounting how he demolished at least four auror divisions, with a single spell, before almost destroying all of Paris.

No one knew what spell he had used till date, but Jane knew that no one even wanted to know what spell he had used, which was somehow even more destructive than fiendfyre.

“Alright,” Ron burst out suddenly. “I think it’s time for a break. Tell me, is there a canteen here?” he asked cheerfully.

_But in the end, he still is a child at heart._

Xiao was the one to get up and go to the canteen, for the others were more interested in talking to Ron. The Chinese man was the youngest of them, and the most energetic and chaotic as well. He was also the one who took to Dark Magic the best.

“So,” said Ron, turning to face her from his chair. “Er - Madame Jane Roberts, tell me more about you and your team. Like, how on earth do so few people know that there’s a secret division of the aurors who are practitioners of the Dark Arts?” he said, wanting to do something as they waited for the food to arrive, while Jane nodded mentally at the respectful term he used.

“Firstly, our auror division is an undercover division, used for the most dangerous of missions, such as capturing Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov,” she said, with no small amount of pride. She was in fact proud of her and her division, as they were closer than any other division was, and were also the most powerful.

“We operate under direct orders of the head auror, head of DMLE, the minister, and sometimes the Unspeakables. Even Dumbledore and the other aurors don’t know of our existence, apart from a select few.”

With that, she headed on to brief explanations of their individual pasts. “I act as a trainer to the recruits, and am the leader of our division. I originate from the states, and fought in the war against the dark wizard and vampire ‘Draven’ in America, and now we have this one. I’m also Half – Blood.”

“Ivanna is our healer, but that doesn’t mean that she’s not a mean duelist. Her family participated in the war against Grindelwald. Her grandfather was killed personally by him. The two of us are also lovers,” she added, not caring if he was against homosexual relationships or not. She’d seen so much prejudice that she’d grown numb to it by now.

Ron’s eyes did widen in surprise, but the fact wasn’t too shocking. He’d seen the glances she’d sent towards Ivanna, which had made it clear that they were close. As to the nature of their relation, Ron really didn’t mind it. As long as they didn’t deliberately snog in front of him, he was alright. Actually, any couple snogging in front of him was a disgusting sight, be it same or different sex. Snogging, though he’d heard felt amazing, from the outside looked disgusting. Not to mention, the pang in his heart whenever he had his _still_ continuing fantasies about him and Hermione snogging. _Love is proving to be nothing more than a fucking pain in the arse._

_Wait, love? No … I can’t love her – th – that bitch._

_You know what? Forget this for now._

She continued. “Alastor, I don’t really think there’s much to add with his fame and all. Moran worked with the unspeakables before coming here and she’s muggleborn. She’s our main runes expert. James is also a fellow muggleborn, and he’s the strategist. Not to mention, he has a devilish affinity for fire spells. Then there’s the added fact that the two of them are a couple.”

“Aamir, well, he’s the heir to the Shafiq seat, but I don’t think he’ll be accepting it. He is the best at mind arts among us, and also loves one on one dueling. And, he’s also the definition of creativity.”

“And last, but not the least, there’s me,” Xiao announced himself, causing Ron to jump as he came out of a disillusionment charm. “I’m Cho Chang’s cousin from your school, the most dramatic of the lot. Got kicked out of my family for killing a death eater with a modified, darker version of a cutting curse which I made. Quite possibly, the one to practice the darkest, most exotic magic, though mine’s learnt from China,” he said in his typical easygoing manner, with his trademark, slightly insane, lopsided grin.

“I believe that the two of us are kindred souls in that case,” Ron replied, his grin eerily similar to Xiao’s. the black - haired man genuinely smiled at Ron, before throwing sandwiches at all of them, which they snatched out of thin air.

Ron gobbled down two of them in less than two minutes, three seconds before Xiao gobbled his down, who stared at him in surprise at someone breaking his record of fastest time to eat a sandwich. Ron replied with a cheeky grin, before getting up.

“Well, now that break is done and I’ve taught you a lot of new stuff, I believe it’s your turn to teach me,” he announced. “The first thing I want to learn is how that dummy blocked unforgivable curses. And before you ask, yes, I will swear a blood oath to not tell anyone about your existence,” which was exactly what he did at once.

Jane grinned at him, eager to teach again, something which she hadn’t done in quite a while. “Throw a cruciatus at me,” she ordered, holding her wand in front of her, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

Ron gave her a second’s warning, before the familiar red beam was heading towards her, almost in slow motion. Almost by pure instinct, her mind calculated where the jet was heading – her head, painfully simple to dodge, and she had to force herself not to duck. Instead, her wand silently glowed golden, and met the blood red beam head on.

She felt the strange, burning sensation of the Cruciatus curse dissipate around her arm, dissolved in the finite at her wand tip. As soon as the magic had disappeared, she looked up to see Ron, gaping at her in awe and shock.

“How in the name of Merlin’s saggy left tit did you do that?” he said, once he had regained use of his mouth. Jane rolled her eyes, before she was back into her trainer shoes in the blink of an eye.

“This method of blocking spells is called parrying, similar to how you deflect spells. In deflection, you generate a small shield at the tip of your wand in order to deflect the spell. In parrying, you replace the shield with a finite, which causes the magic to simply unravel around the spell. That was what the golden light at my wand tip was. Though, you have to be careful with how you use it. Your curse was very weak, and to be honest, even if it hit me nothing much would happen.”

“On the other hand, … if Voldemort fires a curse at you, you’d better dodge. His killing curse is bound to be more powerful than your finite, which will only end in disaster.”

Ron had been listening to her explanation with rapt concentration, his mind running with ideas on how best to train for this challenge. He still hadn’t perfected deflection. In his duel against Albus, he had simply cast a full - sized shield, but those left him exhausted upon repetitive usage. He was slowly reducing the size of the shields, but maintaining accuracy was difficult.

Ron nodded after he had understood the concept. “However, before I start practicing”, he said, raising a hand. “I want to master deflection, because I still mostly use two - thirds sized shields.”

Jane nodded, glad that he had admitted to where he was lacking. “Alright, let’s start practicing then, shall we?” she said. “And Ronald,” she continued, with a sharp grin and an icy tone which made Ron gulp.

“Do treat us with respect from now on, will you?”

He only got time to blink before a curse was flying towards him, forcing him to dodge. _Holy shit. Gotta remember to not get too big of a head from now on._

********************

Ronald Black POV

About 4 hours later (with frequent breaks, something which Ivanna had strictly monitored), an hour past his schedule, Ron stood before the group, wanting to address them one last time before leaving. The practice sure had been grueling, but Ron’s accuracy had improved a bit. However, he would have to regularly practice in order to maintain it. Regarding parrying, he could only get 2 in every 10 right now, especially with the speed with which Jane had been throwing spells at him. However, he wasn’t complaining about her harsh methods, for it would be hypocritical.

He had also shown them his _incendio maxima_ , after which James had shown him how to control the inferno, make it morph into shapes and bend it to his will. It was difficult, and left him even more mentally exhausted than transfigurations, because the fire seemed to have a mind of its own, but the one time he’d managed to even partially control it … Merlin had it been worth it. In fact, the biggest problem he had with his fire (as well as a lot of other spells) was that he overpowered them, and he didn’t have perfect control over them, unlike the aurors. His new trainers told him that he would need to correct that, but he himself really didn’t see the need for it, because he preferred being as chaotic as possible in a fight.

Xiao had also shown him a Chinese spell which conjured up a huge golden dragon made from sparks and fire from his wand, and he was still only on the sparks stage. In exchange, he’d given them the fire tornado spell he’d created. After all, he respected the deals he made.

And then, he’d also learnt that he wasn’t as powerful as he liked to believe.

He had excellent reflexes for his age and admirable power, Jane had told him, but he had reflexes against dummies, not human opponents. Dummies were often predictable, which was why he had had so much difficulty against his last opponent, which had been designed to have an element of randomness to it. It was called the ‘dark auror’, and even then, the one he’d faced had been set to the easiest dark auror difficulty.

Humans also played dirty, not hesitating to punch or kick, something which dummies would never do. Humans had a much wider skill range, and were most of the time faster than a dummy. And then, there was obviously the variable of power.

Dummies typically stayed within an average spell strength, while people tended to randomly overpower spells whenever they saw fit. Against a death eater, the cutting curse he had received would have cut to the bone, instead of the comparatively shallow wound which he had earned earlier.

And due to all these reasons, despite his extensive training, Aamir had ended up defeating him in under a minute, with only a single scratch to speak of and having used tricks he hadn’t even thought of. Hell, the guy had come to an inch of his face and looked into his eyes, and five seconds later he was on the ground with his head throbbing and nose bleeding from a legilimency attack, something which death eaters regularly used in fights. And then he’d told him that had Albus not been holding back, would have defeated him in even shorter time.

_Excellent. I put in so many hours of practice, and end up losing to him in less than a minute. Simply fucking excellent._

He’d almost gone into one of his, no rare, I’m worthless moods again, but Ivanna had chucked an apple at his head and told him to take a break and then try again. Well, he’d held up for 15 seconds longer the next try.

Long story short, he was good, but absolute pants when compared to people like these aurors. Hell, even Moody had defeated him several times!

 _Just wait, the next time I come here … my reflexes will be quicker than your inhuman ones,_ he’d thought, knowing it’d be the truth.

“So,” he started. “I’ll obviously have to thank all of you for your help and for training me when you didn’t really have to, and I will say, this was a fun session,” he finished the formalities quickly, knowing that these were not people for things like norms.

“I guess I have to go and talk to the recruits now, or the Order’s gonna look at me as a hypocrite.”, he said, clapping his hands together with finality.

“Yes, though I will warn you that not everybody fell for your speech that day,” warned Jane. “The Dark faction is calling you a manipulator, the minister calls you a silver – tongued liar, and the public, including many aurors, call you …. Grindelwald reborn.”

Ron raised an eyebrow at this new information, but it wasn’t unexpected. After all, even in school he was receiving taunts of being a death eater from the Gryffindors, and solely because he was good at speaking, and he managed to beat them in dueling, with supposedly dark magic. When his friends asked him if he was alright, he just gritted his teeth and told them that their comments didn’t affect him. That their opinions didn’t matter to him.

But the reality was far from that – Every time he heard someone calling him a freak, a death eater … a murderer, the insults truly did cut straight to that place inside his chest. No matter how many of them he cursed (which was one of the biggest contributors to his detention count), how many dummies he demolished, they never cut any less, and instead the knives only became sharper.

But many people had told him that he was way too stubborn for his own good, and he agreed with them. Which was why, even now he lied to his newfound friends instead of facing the truth.

“Honestly,” he said. “I couldn’t care less about them. In school, people call me Voldemort’s right – hand man, solely because they don’t understand how Harry Potter’s stupid sidekick became such an excellent manipulator, speaker, and an admirable duelist. And so, due to me being a Slytherin, they naturally suspect Dark Magic.”

“But they’re not wrong, are they?”

Ron laughed bitterly. “No, they are wrong. I became an excellent duelist through blood and sweat. Hard work, something which they’re too lazy to put in. I became an excellent manipulator, because previously, I loved telling stories, making people laugh and listen to me raptly. I just twisted that talent around, and because I’m a snake, they consider it manipulation, even though I only speak the truth, albeit a … modified version of it.”

“And I’m not stupid enough to use Dark Magic in front of the school, and so they have no proof of me using the dark arts. So, guess it’s time for me to go check out a few more aurors.”

“Once more, thanks a lot to all of you!” he said before heading out

“And try not to burn yourself out!” came Xiao’s voice, and he chuckled. It appeared that he’d already gotten attached to these skilled aurors, and he really didn’t want to get rid of that now.

***************

30 minutes before midnight, Ron found himself in the Room of requirements, his heart beating faster than usual in a mixture of fear and anticipation as he stared at the sight before him.

The meeting with the aurors had gone alright, him being met with a mixed reaction. The group seemed to be split in two, half of them hating him, the other half on his side. He had shown them the multishield spell as a show of friendship, and then he had dueled for about an hour with different people, something which had been _very_ humbling.

Amongst the recruits, he bested … less than a quarter of those he fought, and lost against all the fully trained aurors. That list, to his embarrassment, had included Dora (she’d given him pink ears, the little devil).

Lesson of the meeting? He might have developed a bighead due to his dueling skills, but in reality, was still an amateur in the eyes of an auror. They had told him that he was good, but they just had way too much agility, experience, and skill for him. For goodness sake, each of them had over three years of training and 5 NEWTs, while he himself, despite the time turner had about …. 5 to 6 months of training.

To sum it up in one line – He was good, but absolute pants when compared to others.

In the end, he and Moody had picked 4 aurors, whom Ron had manipulated and guilt – tripped, and sometimes even blackmailed (with quite some information from Moody about their pasts) into joining the Order of the Phoenix sometime in the future.

Together, they had apparated to 12 grimmauld place, and the look of shock written on the face of the members when called for a meeting so soon had been priceless. It appeared that they had been training, so they had taken Ron’s threat seriously, and Albus had also written a letter to Percy, who too had come for the gathering.

The results of the meeting: Percy recruited as spy, another argument between him and the Weasleys, a mini argument between Percy and him about why he hadn’t been uninformed about the younger boy’s plans, which had ended in an awkward embrace which still somehow managed to bring tears to his eyes.

Ron had left the meeting early, on the excuse of wanting to take a nap, which was true, as he had taken a two-hour nap in the RoR, under a roof reflecting stars. However, he had spent a lot of the other time catching up on his essay on transfiguration, and the drawing of a bowtruckle in CoMC. He’d also visited Umbridge in the hospital wing, who was still unconscious, to his pleasure. He’d left her a present, i.e., drawing on her face with magic. Surprisingly, no one would know the culprit behind the prank.

The rest of his time had been spent revising the things that he had learnt in the auror department, refining his reflexes more, taking breaks (He didn’t want any of their wraths on him), and most importantly, preparing the blood ritual he was about to perform.

Yes, that was the reason he was so nervous as he waited for the clock to strike midnight, and why he knew that he was going to have better reflexes quite soon.

He was about to cross new thresholds, and delve into blood rituals. Actually, pretty much all rituals needed blood.

About a week ago, he had found that his reflexes would take at least a year more, along with the time turner, in order to be improved to Auror level, a point which had only been driven in further by the occurrences of the morning. And he didn’t have that much time. Which was why, he’d asked the room for a way to better his reflexes faster, and it had answered him by landing a book on rituals written by Theophilus Thimble, open to a page about a blood ritual.

The ritual didn’t make you smarter or anything. It would just make your nervous system more sensitive, your reflexes much faster, and make muscle memory much quicker to attain. But most importantly, it would alter your magic, give you a wider range of magical perception.

Like … remember how he could feel the darkness in the blood quill and Black Manor? Well, this ritual would pretty much remove the binds on his magic, set it free, and allow him to increase his range so much so that he could distinguish the magical auras of people and spells.

This would make it much faster and simpler to learn spells, along with ‘listen’ for spells heading his way during a wand fight. Take it to be like an artificial version of an empath.

And so, he had spent the last week ordering the required ingredients from Gringotts, along with slowly draining his blood. The ritual needed 3 pints of his own blood, and he had to do it slowly in order not to cause himself serious harm.

Along with that, he needed to offer the life of an animal in exchange, which was why he’d stolen a rabbit from the edge of the forbidden forest about three days ago in the middle of the night. To do the ritual, he’d have to hit it with a killing curse, something which made him uneasy, because he’d never really killed a living thing using magic.

All the ingredients for the ritual were in sets of three or seven, the two most powerful magical numbers. Ginger root, asphodel powder, hellebore seeds, spider eyes (gross), ashwinder eggs, peacock feathers, and lastly, one dragon’s tooth.

All the ingredients apart from the dragon’s tooth were on different spokes of a seven needled star drawn in his own blood. There were three of each ingredient, and each set had one rune along with it. The dragon tooth was on the spoke towards which his head would lay, and that was surrounded by a circle of seven different runes.

While starting off, he’d had almost no idea about how most of runes worked, or their meanings, because for him there existed just way too many runes, and their relations were too complex and messy and … _random,_ for him to properly make sense of. However, after a week of repeatedly scratching them out, redrawing them, and checking in the textbooks, he’d attained a rudimentary knowledge of them … or at least, of some of them. He’d still maintain that those who enjoyed ancient runes were insane. Honestly, it was infinitely lucky that he’d found parseltongue translations for about half of the needed runes.

He simply stared at the ritual before him, which he’d painstakingly arranged over the past hour, checking several times at each step to see if he had it perfectly. There was a reason why blood rituals were banned, and it was not solely due to their inherently dark nature and the cost the user had to pay.

A messed - up ritual meant almost certain death, insanity, mutilated magic, or being left a squib. However, the enticement of the power caused several inexperience people to perform them, leading to a whole bunch of painful, gory deaths. That was the reason the runes freaked him out, making him wish that he’d taken it as a subject, because even one wrong line could kill him, or worse.

11:45

It was a full moon tonight, the night on which the ritual said that it would work the best. midnight would produce the most significant results, though it could have been done at any time of the day.

As he stared at the white rabbit, dead center in the middle of the ritual heptagram, bound and stunned, a part of Ron screamed at him, suddenly, to forgo this ritual, that it was some of the darkest and most serious magic in existence, even darker than the killing curse. He was about to take a life, albeit of an animal, for goodness sake! But he squashed it down in a few minutes. This ritual would give him power, maybe even allow him to finally defeat Albus. It would help in the fight against Voldemort.

After all, it was for the Greater Good, wasn’t it?

Suddenly, an alarm sounded from his wand, signaling that there were 5 minutes before the ritual started.

Taking a deep breath, he walked around the circle, cutting his hand just enough to draw a drop of red, iridescent blood, and watched it drop to the runes, which glowed, coming to life after days of inertness.

With a flick of his wand, all his clothes divested themselves, landing in a neat pile to his side, leaving him completely naked, the cool air of the room washing over his pale skin, softly kissing his scars and tattoo.

He stepped into the center of the ritual, standing and looking down at the rabbit at his feet. With another flick, it woke up, and squawked at him in fear. It’s red eyes, which would have looked malevolent on a person, appeared strangely afraid, like it could almost sense what was about to happen to it. _If anything, I’m sorry._

11:59

 _Huh, luckily there’s not chanting involved. Surely would have messed it up then_ , he thought through the numb fog engulfing his mind, as he pointed his wand at the rabbit, which abruptly stopped squeaking in fear, instead trying its best to run away from him. closing his eyes, he began trying to conjure the image of people he hated – Umbridge and Lucius Malfoy.

A gong sounded from his wand, and a whispered incantation left his lips.

12:00

 _‘Avada Kedavra’,_ and a green light escaped from his wand, hitting the mammal straight on its head, and it dropped to the ground, dead. Lifeless.

In a split second, multiple things happened. The rabbit disappeared in a cloud of silver smoke which headed to the different points of the star, just as the ritual said would happen. Ron threw his wand out of the ritual circle, thanking his lucky stars that the curse had worked, and lay down on the surprisingly warm floor, his head right below the dragon tooth which had begun to glow.

Now, the last step, which was to activate the ritual. Ron hissed at magic to begin, in parseltongue, the most powerful magical language, and a soft, humming sound filled the air around him, making it seem heavier than it was in reality.

Ron cautiously turned his head to the right, in order to see if the heptagram was spinning around him as predicted, and yes, it was beginning to do just that. Slowly, almost cautiously, as if the ritual circle had a mind of its own, the blood began to glow brighter, and spun around slow, slow, then faster and faster until it was a blur around him.

 _Wait, why is the blood glowing black? The ritual said it would be red!_ Ron thought, panicking for a second, but he stopped himself from jumping out. An incomplete ritual was even worse than an incorrect one, and Ron forced himself to calm down, repeating the mantra of ‘Maybe it’s just something the book forgot to mention’ over and over in his head.

However, he didn’t need to do it for too long, as suddenly, a ghostly, ethereal screamed the air, lasting for only a split second, coming from the magic around him itself, exactly like the ritual had said. This meant that the pain would start, and start it did.

_Well, it’s working perfectly so far._

The first form of pain washed over him, in the form of a mild headache, striking from right on the center of his head, where his hippocampus was. It was mild, nothing which couldn’t be ignored.

It lasted for 7 seconds, before it increased. Now, the headache was becoming annoying and he had to force himself to stop from massaging his forehead.

Another 7 seconds passed, before it was almost like something exploded within his head, and he could almost feel his head throbbing in agony. Only thinking about how he’d faced worse pain stopped himself from screaming.

7 seconds more, before the pain went reached completely new levels. This time, it was like a wave of searing heat, starting at his core, was spreading through his very being, his soul, his magic. He had to bite his tongue so hard that it drew blood to stifle a scream.

7 seconds. Now, the second wave of fire passed through him, this time coming from the outside to the inside. This one went languidly, at its own sweet pace, relishing the pain it caused him, and Ron’s nails dug into his palms hard enough to draw blood, gouge deep cuts into his skin. _Is it supposed to hurt so much?_ A small voice said in his head.

7 seconds. This time, it targeted his nerves, causing them to burn, small sparks of electricity surging through his nervous system, causing him to bend in strange angles. It was eerily similar to the cruciatus curse. By now, he was thrashing around violently, causing even more burns, black and ugly, to appear on his skin as it touched the glowing runes. _STOP IT! SOMEONE STOP IT!_

7 seconds. Suddenly, there were knives embedded in his nerves and skin, cutting him, leaving their marks, drawing blood. There were tiny explosions going off within his soul. his magic was being ripped out of him. his eyes flew open, wider than humanly possible due to the agony, which was worse than the cruciatus curse.

There were worms in his skin, snakes, blood thirsty and venomous inside his skin, in his muscles and organs, and they had only one purpose – to inflict unimaginable pain on him. They were tunneling through him, burning him up from the inside with acid. They were biting out huge chunks from inside him with their horrifying fangs, their spiny backs were digging into his flesh.

 _It hurts … it hurts,_ he whimpered in his mind. The only time he’d felt this much pain was that night in the hospital wing.

Vaguely, he could hear screaming from somewhere, gut wrenching, bloodcurdling shrieks born of pure torture and agony.

He barely registered a black and blue cloud floating over him, as if wondering what to do with him, and recognized it as his magic peering down at him, just like the ritual said would happen. Suddenly, the black cloud shaped itself into a lance, its tip pointing straight at his sternum.

It dived, piercing him.

Though he didn’t feel any physical damage, the pain reached an impossibly agonizing peak, totally opposite of what the book said would happen when his magic reentered him, but Ron was too busy screaming to notice.

Suddenly, less than a second later, just as the pain had peaked, it disappeared, leaving behind the panting, sobbing red head, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he took shallow breaths. All the blood had evaporated, the runes were grey, and the ingredients lay on the floor, grayscale, all the life and magic ripped out of them to power the ritual.

Ron didn’t know how long he stayed there, and neither did he notice the swirling, destructive black cloud surrounding him, wrecking the room, but he knew that his eyes were closed. Slowly, he registered that he was curled into a fetal position, trying to protect his entire body from the demons which had been torturing it, as if it would somehow kill the worms which had been tunneling inside him, _things_ he could still feel, their phantoms causing him to twitch and bend at unnatural angles as a small trickle of blood flowed form the corner of his mouth.

He felt something almost … pulling back into him, feeling him with an exhausted, but satisfying feeling which most _definitely_ did not belong to him, but he was too close to unconsciousness at that moment to really pay any attention to him.

Like clouds slowly flying towards a valley, the seas of slumber too descended upon him, and before he knew it, he found himself on a soft mat on the floor curled on the floor. Another spasm racked his body.

He closed his eyes, and simply … let go, allowing the seas of slumber to take him in. He was asleep within before the minute was over.

***************

Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the Room of Requirement, which was overlooking the Black Lake, sunlight glistening on its still, reflective surface. The rays of light fell on the face of a red - haired teen who was lying on a bed, his face scrunched in clear terror and pain as he thrashed around.

A white mouse scuttled across the floor as an earsplitting scream ripped its way out of Ron’s throat and he fell onto the ground next to the bed. The Room reflected his mind’s state as it became darker, a fire roared to life in a corner. Destroyed structures began sprouting up from the ground, like toxic weeds in a field.

_He was in a field, fragments of some brittle substance crackling under his feet as he walked ahead. There was a destroyed building to his left, and a towering, rusted metal structure spiraled into the sky behind him._

_Thuk – Thuk …. Thuk – Thuk, his heart thumped in his chest, a resounding, ominous drumbeat._

_An especially loud crack forced him to look down at the floor, and he gagged at the sight which met him. Under his feet, were …. Human bones. Shattered skulls, femurs, all in tiny little flakes which stuck to the soles of his shoes._

_Swallowing the bile rising up his throat, he continued to walk forward, wondering what nightmare his mind had conjured this time. He just hoped that it wasn’t something due to the blood ritual gone wrong._

_Thuk – Thuk …. Thuk – Thuk_

_Suddenly, a sob, anguished and choked, reached him, the voice strangely familiar, and he whipped around to look at where it had come from._

_There, kneeling next to a fallen person near a metal beam, crooked after presumably falling from a height, was a redheaded boy, tears falling from his eyes. He was clearly ill and starving from the way the skin was hanging off his bones, his hair looking dead, scratches and cuts all over his body._

_Thuk – Thuk …. Thuk – THUK_

_He didn’t know why, but his heart began beating harder in his chest as he started heading towards him to investigate, almost like it was telling him to turn back, to turn back or something horrible would happen. He obviously didn’t listen, and continued walking._

_Suddenly, he gasped as … bodies came into sight. Corpses, lying on the ground, blood streaming from countless wounds and gashes, eyes staring at the heavens. The red-haired boy still kept crying even as Ron struggled to keep in his food. He was sure that someone had tried to make some of these bodies into inferi, and the sight of one of them was never pleasant._

_Thuk – Thuk …. THUK – THUK_

_Stepping even more cautiously now, cursing the fact that he didn’t have his wand on him, he walked towards the redhaired boy, who still didn’t stop crying. His tears had become louder now, and he’d buried his face in the …. dead girl’s chest._

_She too had red hair, the exact shade as his._

_Thuk – Thuk …. THUK – THUK_

_His blood froze in his veins, and his eyes widened in horror._

_The exact shade as his. As Ron’s_

_Thuk – THUK … THUK – THUK_

_Suddenly wishing that he hadn’t even come here, that he didn’t have to be so bloody curious, and that he could regain control of his legs, he found himself forced to rush over to the sobbing boy. ‘No, no, NO!’_

_THUK – THUK …. THUK – THUK_

_He couldn’t stop the scream which ripped out of his throat the moment his eyes fell on the sight before him, the image being burnt into his mind for all of eternity. He’d stopped breathing, his heart had stopped beating, and he was crawling through the broken bones, the shattered glass and the jagged pieces of metal, not caring about the pain blossoming on his skin, like fire slowly coming to life in a dry field._

_There, lying on the ground was a starved young lady, her fiery red hair splayed around her head like a pool of blood circling her beautiful features. It provided a disturbing contrast to her ghostly, deathly pale skin, brown freckles standing out like tiny beacons._

_There was … there was so much blood, everywhere. There was blood on her face, blood peppered all over her body as if someone had thrown a spray of tiny needles at her which had pierced her body effortlessly, leaving her bleeding on the ground._

_And there was blood on her legs, still streaming slowly from between her thighs, crimson rivers making him want to tear his eyes out. There was a gaping hole right where her womb would be, and he coughed up bile at the thought of what had happened, tears streaming down his face as he reached to touch the woman’s face. Her brown eyes looked unseeingly at the heavens above._

_His sister’s face._

_His Ginny’s face._

_Thuk – Thuk_

_He didn’t understand, why this was happening? Why was his sister lying dead on the ground, clearly having … having lost a … child? Why was she even in his dream? WHY WAS HE EVEN HAVING THIS DREAM?_

_Everything looked too real, too solid. The buildings around him, the blood now on his hands, the sweet pain spreading through his body … not, this couldn’t be happening. Ginny was NOT dead._

_Images began flying through his mind as he desperately cried out for her, telling her to wake up. The thought of her lying in the chamber, Voldemort and his pet basilisk looming over her menacingly. Her screams in his mind as she was tortured by someone, some entity which hated them. Her lying dead on the ground, having taken a dark curse to the chest._

_He didn’t even realize when he began frantically looking for any sign of life as he screamed at her, voice hoarse, to wake up, to not leave him. He made useless promises to her, telling her that he’d buy her all the gifts she’d ever want, that he’d buy her new robes to wear. That he’d get her the best books and potion kits, make sure no one ever bullied or dared to touch her. That he’d never let anyone hurt her, no one._

_But he’d failed, failedfailedfailed. Ginny was lying dead on the ground, because of his carelessness, because he had been careless, because he’d allowed her to go where she shouldn’t have … like, like this place._

_Suddenly, rage blossomed in his heart, like some monster made of fiendfyre, consuming him from the inside and heading out to destroy everything else. If Ginny couldn’t live, then NO ONE would live._

_But first, he’d kill the person who’d done this to her, who’d – who’d … made her go away. He’d catch him, and he’d torture him, torture him for his entire life, make him see his loved ones die in front of his eyes. Snatched away just like he’d snatched away his Ginny._

_And inside, an answer came to his mind, obvious. ‘It’s the guy in front of you of course!’_

_His head snapped up and eyes instantly met another pair of eyes, that of the person in front of him._

_He too had red hair, tears streaming down his face. Blood coating his arms from the broken glass, cheeks gaunt and underfed. He too had pale skin … freckles standing out in stark contrast. His nose was too long, hands large and clumsy, clutching a wand in his hand – 14 and a half inches with conjoined spheres, made of Elder wood and Thestral tail hair, both of them mixed with others._

_Realization didn’t dawn on him, no, it never had the courtesy to do so. For him, realization always hit him like a herd of hippogriffs with a few dragons thrown in for good measure._

_Staring right at him from the other side, dried blood crusting the hand with which he was trying to reach him, an eerie, but relieved smile distorting his features, was a very familiar face, a face which he now hated with a passion because that very same wand had killed his sister, that very same wand which was reaching towards him._

_He was looking at himself. Ron._

_Except … his eyes weren’t blue, or even light blue._

_His eyes were pure white, a blanket of snow behind them. And just like how snow always looked so innocent and pure, but could kill a person if they got stuck outside during a heavy blanket, those blank eyes saw him clear as day. And they were the eyes of a killer, a murderer who never felt remorse._

_Ron screamed._

The sound resonated in the real world, and the Room roared along with it. He woke up, back ramrod straight, panting as blood streamed down his arms from the cuts he’d gouged into them with his own nails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, kudos and comments are welcome!
> 
> Thanks for reading despite my not - so - good writing!


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